A Patient Wolf
by MyMother
Summary: Selena has never been able to live up to her own expectations. It is a difficult task when you are the daughter of the great Eragon Shadeslayer. Her whole life she has striven to be the best, to become a dragon rider and make herself proud. But only through a cruel twist of fate and some help from a werewolf can she fully realize her true potential, whether that be good or evil.
1. The Blue King

Boredom had always been such a fascinating concept to Eragon. To think that intelligent, sentient beings could not be perpetually entertained by all the fascinating apparatuses of the world confounded him to no end. Even now he was ecstatically following the journey of two mountain rats as they scoured for food. It was quite like many adventure tales his father had told him as a child. The rats had been bitter enemies, constantly infringing upon the other's territory and ravaging his enemy's mate. But the winters of Yakir were brutal and unforgiving, and for the rats, food-supply was a problem. So they had decided to put their differences aside and team up, in hopes of discovering as much extra food within the cracks and crevices of the Blue Palace as their tiny little paws could hold.

However, betrayal is a tempting mistress. One of the rats, whom Eragon had jokingly named Murtagh, was secretly storing the majority of the food he found in order to keep it from his blissfully ignorant partner. Smart little bastards, rats were, especially those of the mountain variety. People often mistook them for nothing more than stupid, disease-infested vermin. But Eragon knew better. He was eagerly awaiting the moment when Tzvirael, the other rat, uncovered Murtagh's dastardly plan. Would he fight him, or would he play Murtagh the fool and swipe all of his hidden booty right from under his nose? The suspense could kill a man!

"What say you, Master Eragon?" Eragon switched gears instantaneously.

"The Burok-Ai threat is minimal, not nearly large enough to get the Rider Corps involved. The bulls are strong, but stupid. Our allies in the South would have no problem eradicating them should the need arise." Over the years, Eragon had become quite adept at splitting his concentration up evenly between multiple different stimuli. It was something that came with centuries of practice. Murmurs of agreement spread throughout the room. Thranliel, the Elven rider who addressed him, was not so convinced.

"Master Eragon, with all due respect, was not the Rider Corps created for the sole purpose of peace? We cannot stand idly by while these bull-men burn and slaughter countless lives in the South." The room was silent, and all eyes were on Eragon. He raised a hand to his beard and scratched it, a habit he had only recently taken up.

"As much of a threat as the Burok-Ai are to Calvin's kingdom, his forces are holding them at bay with relative ease. And while you are absolutely correct in saying the Corps is an instrument of peace, we must remember that it is not a weapon. We must only mobilize the Corps in defense, not attack." Eragon saw frustration flare in Thranliel's eye. "However, you've a valid point. A proposition, perhaps?" He asked the entire room, but directed his comment toward Thranliel. The elf nodded with a look of cautious curiosity on his face. "We will send a squadron of Riders from the Eighth regiment of the Guard to turn Calvin's defense into an attack and wipe out the Burok-Ai menace before it gets any larger." Eragon's arms were out as he awaited the senate's decision. However, he put them back down when each race started quickly murmuring to themselves. He heaved a great sigh as he sat down, rubbing his eyes and realizing for the first time in a couple of months how tired he was. Fortunately, the deliberating ceased quickly and they were ready to cast a vote. "All in favor, raise your hands." The representative from each race raised his or her hand. A smile spread across Eragon's face. A compromise had been reached. "All those opposed?" Not a single hand went up.

"Excellent!" Eragon exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "On to the next topic-"

"Which is Silverback." Interrupted the Dwarven representative, Kisgreg. An awkward tension filled the room. _Just once._ Eragon thought. _Just once I'd like to get through one of these damn meetings without bringing him up! Just once! That's all I ask!_

"Kisgreg, my friend, I have told you before-"  
"The beast is a menace!" Kisgreg shouted, slamming his fist down onto his table. Chaos erupted in the Senate.

 _Well, that's a tad bit dramatic._

 _Not now, Saphira._

 _Ooh, so sassy today, little one!_

 _Gods, you're insufferable._ Eragon knew, wherever she was, his dragon was chuckling in her gullet.

Each race was now attempting to get a word in edgewise.

"Please, order! Order, gentle people, please!" He yelled, magically magnifying his voice so that he could be heard. The hall quieted down. "We have the representative system for a reason, people. There is no need for each and every one of us to go berserk at the slightest mention of controversy." There were muffled complaints and insults throughout the hall.

"Now, like I have stated and we have agreed before, Silverback-"

Suddenly, the massive steel doors to the Hall of Kings slowly swung forward. The Senate instantly became silent. It was a law not to interrupt the meetings of the Senate unless under the most extreme of circumstances. Whispers ran through the place and reverberated off the walls. A single figure, covered with elegant, black furs gracefully glided into the room. A smile spread across Eragon's face as he felt her presence touch his mind. Evidently, she was not allowing him entrance into hers.

 _Ha! She's late._

 _And aggravated._ Saphira responded.

 _Has Firnen arrived?_

His dragon's mood seemed to shift slightly. _He tarries. He's trying to annoy me._

Eragon chuckled. _It seems he's succeeded._ Eragon told Saphira.

The hall was silent as a crypt as Arya walked across its expanse, coldly looking straight out in front of her with her proud chin raised with dignity, as if challenging anyone in the hall to call her on her tardiness. Eragon had always felt many things for the Queen of Elves, but above all, he was curious. Over an entire millennia he'd known her and he knew every single thing there was to know about her. He knew her favorite kind of plant, her least favorite day of the year, and even why she was late to this council meeting. He knew her interests, her motivations, her loves, her hates; Eragon even knew her name. Her true name. He knew her so perfectly that he could literally describe her with a couple of simple words in the Ancient Language. And yet, despite all of this, she was still a mystery to him. Eragon had no idea why. Anyone who knows the definition of the word "mystery" would have been able to explain to him that she was, in fact, quite literally the most polar opposite thing from a mystery to him. But Eragon enjoyed his juvenile theories and tendencies, something else he knew Arya hated.

 _Thranliel is absolutely fuming with you, your grace._ Eragon teased, letting a small smile curve on his bearded face.

 _You will not talk to me, Shadeslayer. I'm in no mood for jests and prods._ Ooh, she was testy.

 _Shadeslayer?_ Eragon assumed she had said that to wound him, but it really only ended up amusing him more than anything. He hadn't been called "Shadeslayer" in hundreds of years. _Now, now, your grace, is that any way to address the head of the Senate of Aryal?_

 _You've become insufferably cocky in your old age, Bromson._ She replied with malice, though Eragon also sensed a hint of smugness in her words as well.

 _Bromson? Why, you are just full of the titles and surnames today, my Queen._

 _You will be addressed soon, Master Eragon. The formalities of my arrival are coming to a close._ And as she finished that thought, so did the last of the representatives finish formally greeting her and welcoming her to Aryal.

"You are as fair as ever, your grace." Thranliel said politely.

"Please Master Thranliel, let us converse at a later time. I do not mean to delay this council meeting any more than I already have." She replied, not quite as politely as the comment she was responding to.

"Then let us resume." Kisgreg announced. He looked at Eragon with a stern look, almost threatening in nature.

"Master Kisgreg," Eragon started, making sure to choose his words carefully. "Silverback is a menace. He's killed countless of innocents and set back the progress of our city hundreds of times over. But a shepherd must be prepared to lose a few sheep to the wolves if he plans to grow his flock. Silverback is not nearly a big enough threat for us to assign even a single rider to the case. We have a whole squadron, filled with the most elite riders the Blue Blades have ever trained-"

"Our self-made wolf hunters have been "hunting" Silverback for the better half of a century, Eragon." Silence enveloped the room. No one had ever shown such disrespect to Eragon in public, not even his enemies. The tension in the room was so thick it almost seemed to weigh down on them. Eragon imagined that had he drawn Brisingr he could have carved himself a slice.

"I propose a compromise." Kisgreg proclaimed. His eyes were locked with Eragon's, who waited a moment before answering the Dwarven rider.

"Very well, Master Kisgreg. What do you propose?"

"Let us enlist the services of one of King Calvin's wolf hunters. They are thorough and properly trained. A true hunter's guidance is exactly what our boys need to hunt down Silverback's pack and terminate it." All heads in the room turned to Eragon. That always meant a unanimous decision.

 _That cunning little dwarf…_

 _My my, aren't you just bursting with titles today, your grace._

 _Not in the mood, Arya._

 _Oh really? I could have sworn you were as jovial as a court jester in spring not three minutes ago._

Eragon drove her from his mind, and set up walls so she couldn't invade again. "Well then let's take a vote." he said with a sigh, already accepting defeat. "All in favor?" Every hand in the room besides his shot up even before he was done talking. Eragon could've ended it right there. The senate needs a unanimous vote on matters that concern interacting with King Calvin. And if he had voted against it he would not have been challenged. The people of Aryal trusted Eragon. He had been a Consul for the first ten years of the city's life and had served as the head of the Senate ever since his two terms had ended. He was the headmaster of the Oromis School of Magic and the Grand Master of the Dragon Riders. Not even the King of Yakir was as revered and respected as Eragon.

However, he was tired and he understood why Kisgreg was so aggressive with the Silverback matter. "Very well." Eragon sighed. He raised his hand in defeat and immediately started plotting and planning how he would handle the backlash of this newly created conundrum.

After a few moments of eye rubbing Eragon raised both his hand to call for a stop to the chatting that had erupted after the verdict. It immediately stopped. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it's about time we bring this senate meeting to an end." murmurs of exasperated agreements flittered through the hall. "Very well, I call this meeting of the Senate of Aryal to a close."


	2. The Queen of the Elves

Eragon was the first person out of the hall. His mood had taken a very sour turn thanks to Kisgreg.

 _Saphira!_

 _On my way, little one._

Eragon felt Arya nudge his mind, attempting to establish a mental link. _Talk to her, Eragon._

 _Saphira, all I want to do is fly. She can wait._

 _You haven't talked face to face with her for months, Eragon!_

 _She's waited all those months, she can wait a few more hours._

 _Watch yourself, little one. You must not take those things in your life most precious to you for granted._

Eragon wrapped himself in his furs, protecting his body from the winter's cold, and looked out over the beautiful city covered in snow. He sighed. It felt like yesterday he and Blodhgarm had arrived in Yakir with nothing but a ship and a dragon. Now he stood at the top of the largest and richest city in the entire kingdom.

He was standing there on the balcony of the Blue Palace when he heard a voice. "I suppose you're not angry, just disappointed?" The voice had a thick and rough Dwarven accent, the kind that is bred from lowest levels of Farthen Dur. The polar opposite of regal. Eragon just smiled.

"Oh no, I'm fuming." He responded. "You went against my orders. But I suppose the fault lies with me." Eragon turned to the ginger dwarf. "For even attempting to command 'Kisgreg the Rock'. The very thought is inconceivable." He paused before continuing. "How are you, old friend?"

Kisgreg smiled and crossed his arms, walking next to Eragon to absorb the beauty of the city. "Old indeed. Over a millennia, I've been with you, Eragon. Dwarves aren't meant to live that long."

"No one is, Kisgreg. But we are riders."

"Aye, we need perpetual youth. Well," he said, opening his arms and comically looking down at his body, "Relative perpetual youth." They both let out a melancholy chuckle, mentally preparing for what came next.

"This city needs Silverback," Kisgreg started, "but not as a hero. He is the villain that keeps the other wolves away." He was right of course. Notwithstanding, Eragon still felt extremely uncomfortable with hiring a wolf hunter. They were monsters, men that had been mutated beyond the point of return. Each hunter was worth three riders, and could easily bring down a small dragon. Luckily for Eragon and the riders King Calvin was strong and just, and by extension so were the hunters.

"And if the hunter learns what Silverback really is?" Eragon asked, already knowing the dwarf's answer.

"We kill 'im." Kisgreg spat on the ground, a habit he had recently come into when speaking about murdering people.

"Greg-"

"The eight most powerful riders this world has ever seen and their dragons versus a single wolf hunter. Eragon, I understand their strength but not even the Council of Seven could take us." Again they stood in silence, both contemplating the Silverback situation.

Eragon turned to Kisgreg, and with a sigh said, "You've never let me down, Greg. All the times I've doubted you, you've never failed." Kisgreg grinned and his mood changed drastically.

"There's a good man, eh? You'll see, brother. It'll all turn out fine." He clapped Eragon on the back of his thigh and jumped straight off the balcony. A few moments later a massive golden dragon rose in the air, with Kisgreg on his back. Each beat of the dragon's wings sent sound waves so loud through the air, the ground shook.

"Greeting, Saegr!" Eragon instinctively shouted, despite knowing Saegr listened to his thoughts, not his words.

 _Ah, the Blue King himself! This is truly an honor, your grace._

" _The Golden Hammer and his Rock." Hasn't anyone ever thought all of these names are a bit silly?_ Eragon replied.

 _I've always quite liked The Rock, if I may humbly add._ Kisgreg said, eliciting a low-rumbling laugh from his dragon.

 _I disagree, little one._ More sound waves, these even louder than Saegr's. Saphira flew into the city from the west, spewing a great jet of blue flames from her maw. _Greetings, son-Saegr._

 _Mother-Saphira, it has been too long!_ He let out tendrils of golden flames that danced over Saphira's chest. She responded accordingly, breathing her own blue fire onto the other dragon.

 _No!_ Eragon mentally projected his mind out toward the two dragons. _Absolutely not! The two largest dragons in existence,_ He put extra emphasis on the last word, _are not allowed within the limits of the city simultaneously! You'll destroy the Blue Palace!_

Our _Blue Palace, little one. Never forget who you are._

 _Yes, yes, now one of you fly the hell away!_ Both dragons laughed as Saegr flew off.

Eragon jumped onto his dragon's back and landed softly. They started flying towards the Silver Mountains, which served as the home of the riders. They were some of the largest mountains in existence, dwarfing even Alagaesia's Boers easily. This was the reason the riders took up residence within them. It had become painfully obvious that the city of Aryal, as massive as it was, could not house all of the dragons of the Rider Corps, as the Corps and the dragons grew larger and larger every year. So Eragon had proposed that each rider build an accessible home within the mountains that provide Aryal with all of her wealth. Now more than a thousand riders and their dragons dwelled in the mountain range, technically making it a colony of Aryal.

Eragon and Saphira spiraled up towards the summit of the tallest mountain, nicknamed "The Blue Prince" because Eragon and Saphira had taken up residence on it. Usually the air at the top of the mountains would be too thin and cold for Eragon, or any person for that matter, to survive. However, seeing their predicament, the riders and the dragons had pooled their combined magical energy together to cast an enchantment upon the mountains, making them comfortable for living.

Saphira landed in the courtyard of Eragon's house. It wasn't unreasonably huge since Saphira lived close by at the summit of the mountain and not actually in Eragon's house with him, but it wasn't so humble either. Eragon had indulged a tad when constructing his home. His excuse was his two children, Evandar and Selena, who both lived there with him. Evandar, his son, was his oldest by a large margin, four-hundred and thirty-six years. Eragon hadn't trained the boy himself, but he was far and away the most gifted rider the Corps had. He had been chosen by his dragon, Iaor, at the age of six, making him the youngest living being to have ever been chosen. He had mastered swordplay by the time he was twenty, and the ancient language by fifty. He had risen through the most elite section of the Rider Corps, the Blades of the Blue King, faster than anyone before him and now served as not only Lord Commander of the Blue Blades but also as Commander-in-Chief of all militarized forms of rider authority and power; thus, Eragon's son was the second most powerful man in Yakir, right under Eragon himself. His daughter Selena was another, much more difficult story. She was a teenager. Nineteen years old. And the biggest thorn in Eragon's side.

"Children?" Eragon yelled as he opened the door to his home. "Daddy's home!" he shouted teasingly, knowing they hated it.

 _They are not here._ Saphira said, with a hint of amusement in her thoughts. _But she is._

A small smile spread across his face. Eragon took his time to navigate to his room. He admired all the paintings and vases throughout his house and even stopped in the lounge to look out at the massive window that peered out over the clouds below. He nodded greetings to the wisps that oversaw the upkeep of his house and served him, knowing full well that they had no feelings or personalities.

Eragon casually opened the door to his room and peered inside. Lo and behold, his wife stood by the window, looking out over the mountain range. Eragon smiled and walked over to his desk. He sat upon it and observed her as she observed the clouds. He sat there in silence for a moment before speaking. "How was your trip?"

"Awful, as usual." She said, running a hand down the frame of the window. "Firnen and I ran into a huge storm and had to take an annoyingly long detour."

"Was that why you were so late to the council?" Eragon teased, not even attempting to hide the amusement and smugness in his words.

Arya turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Eragon got off the desk and walked over to her. "Haven't aged a day, just as beautiful as ever." He remarked as he took her into his arms.

She raised a hand up to his face and ran her fingers through his beard. "Can't say the same about you, my love. This beard is new. Why have you grown it?"

"What you don't like it?" He teased, lowering his head down to her face and kissing her. It was a long kiss, full of love and longing. When they parted Arya's nose was scrunched up.

"It tickles." This made Eragon laugh. He let go of her and collapsed onto the bed, finally letting the day's exhaustion sink into his bones.

"I am so tired, Arya." he sighed, spreading his arms and legs out over the bed.

"Are you? I'm just as energized as ever." She fell down next to him, resting her head and arm onto his chest. Her long raven hair was spread across his chest and face, tickling his nose and forcing Eragon to blow it away. It smelled of pinewood.

"I'm the Queen of the Elves." Arya said, nuzzling her face into the side of his pectoral, "Every single one of my days is filled to the brim with politics and meetings, and yet here I stand feeling as young and renewed as the day we met."

"The day we met, you had just come out of a coma and tried to kill me."

"Not _kill_ you. Just seriously mentally maim you." She replied, pressing her body up against his. They lay there in silence, enjoying each other's presence. "I've missed you, _Eragon_. So much." A shiver ran through Eragon's body at the mention of his true name.

"And I you, _Arya."_ He felt goosebumps form on her arms as she exhaled. Eragon never realized how much he loved his wife until he was actually alone with her. He remembered the countless years he had spent chasing her and finally catching her. He had no idea what to do when he had actually caught her. Arya had worn a stunning silk dress, as white as snow, which was created by the finest elven weavers in all of Du Weldenvarden. The controversy the dress had created was extraordinarily ridiculous. It was apparently the custom among humans that the bride wear anything but white on her wedding day, due to some superstitious old maid's tale about a white snake and a black eagle.

' _This is my wedding, and I'll marry you in whatever I want to marry you in.'_ Arya had told Eragon when he had told her of the complaints of the women of Carvahall.

As he recalled all those hundreds of years ago, he realized that his wife had actually fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he stayed where he was, closing his eyes and waiting for sleep to take him as well.


	3. Sparring

It was two hours past noon before Selena even considered breaking for lunch, much to the frustration of Glanduil, her sparring partner and mentor. Selena wore leggings and a hunting shirt with no furs or coat to shield her from the cold of winter. Apparently, she did not need it.

The duo sat at one of the benches scattered around the yard eating their meat pies and drinking their water. Glanduil curiously noticed tension surrounding Selena, something that she didn't usually wear. Sure, she had been a hard-ass for the entire six months he had known her, but she was always comfortable being one. "You've barely talked today." he remarked, trying to start up a conversation.

"Barely talk any day." She replied, belching after she had chugged down three gulps of water.

"You know," Glanduil started, a smirk slowly forming on his face "it's not very lady like to burp like that. Or to eat like that. Or even dress like that, for that matter-"

"Shut up." Selena interrupted, sounding exhausted. Silence enveloped them. Glanduil was used to her snapping at him, but her snaps were usually much more creative. He actually felt slightly offended.

Sounds of sparring echoed throughout the yard as they ate in silence. Glanduil glanced at Selena from time to time, trying to figure out what was wrong with her today. He couldn't really think of anything. She was one of the best swordsman in the kingdom, and would have been knighted long ago by King Calvin had she been a man. It was all she seemed to be interested in. Honing her skills as a warrior for the battle that would probably never come. The girl was only nineteen, and she had never been outside of the city walls.

Selena was the daughter of the Blue King, the most powerful man in Yakir. What reason would she have to be so motivated to become such a great swordsman? Well, the answer seemed pretty clear to Glanduil. It was her brother. The most gifted rider ever to come out of the Rider Academy and the Lord Commander of the Blades of the Blue King. That was quite a lot to live up to. Glanduil waited for his sparring partner to finish her food, and then stood up and stretched.

"Alright, then. Off to the shooting range?" Something that was almost a smile flickered across Selena's face. Glanduil was glad to see it.

"I got a new pistol yesterday." She said, pulling the flintlock out of its holster on her thigh. "Isn't it beautiful?" She admired it as if it were her child. Glanduil looked down at his own pistol. It was an ancient thing, that didn't shoot straight and malfunctioned half the time. Glanduil was constantly telling himself that he needed to get a new one. Flintlocks were the newest model, much more practical, effectual, and dependable. But he had been using matchlocks his whole life. He remembered when the things were first introduced into the world. "Rifles" they called them. New deadly boom sticks that shot metal balls. It took about a century for people to transition from bows to the matchlocks, as one could nock an arrow much faster than reload a rifle or pistol. But the smartest of the killers of the world realized that the range and force with which the rifle operated upstaged any advantage a bow and arrow had. And so ended the era of the bow and arrow. Of course people still practiced archery, but as a hobby and not an actual form of combat.

Selena's pistol was truly a beauty. Hand-crafted, archtree wood with an Aryaen steel hammer and plated with what looked like silver, most probably mined from the very mountains that made Aryal rich. Its dark wood shined elegantly, reflecting the light of the sun so well Glanduil could make out a morphed reflection of himself in the dark matter.

They had just arrived at the shooting range, which was a loud as ever. "It's loaded?" Glanduil asked, wanting to examine the barrel a bit more closely.

"Yeah." Selena replied, taking it back briefly and aiming at a target a couple of yards down the alley. She squeezed the trigger and let the bullet fly, no doubt hitting whatever she was aiming for. Selena dropped the gun to her side with a satisfied grin newly born onto her face.

"There's a smile." Glanduil teased as he took the gun back, looking down the barrel and smelling the freshly combusted powder. "Alegaesian powder? How the hell did you get the money to pay for that?"

"My mother is the Queen of Du Weldenvarden. I'm not exactly impoverished." She responded, sounding aggravatingly entitled.

"The barrel's too long for a regular pistol, and its diameter is too big." Glanduil commented, finally handing the weapon back to its owner.

Selena took out her powder horn and started filling the gun. "Yeah, so?"

"So what do you need with a wolfsbane pistol?" Selena didn't look up from her task. All she did was pat the bullet into the barrel and aim at her target again.

"I want to be a hunter." She said quickly, right before firing.

Glanduil stared blankly at her. "No one's ever wanted to become a hunter, Selena."

Her response was delayed and stern, delivered right after she fired her next shot. "Yeah well, there's a first time for everything." Glanduil couldn't believe his ears. He watched her as she begun to reload her gun for the third time, trying to formulate any kind of word or remark. The process to become a hunter was the single most painful and dangerous thing a person could endure, so much so that it was actually the most severe form of legal punishment in the kingdom of Yakir. His mouth continually opened and closed again, just as a fish's out of water would.

After a surprisingly large number of seconds Glanduil finally said, "Your father would never allow it." Selena turned to him with a grimace. Despite knowing exactly what the look entailed he straightened his back and lifted his chin. His retaliating look consisted of a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. This was one subject Glanduil would not let slip. "I forbid it," He said sternly, "just as I'm sure your father would as well."

Selena chuckled lightly, to Glanduil's annoyance. "Please, Glandy, let's not do this." Glanduil exhaled in exasperation. She never gave him the respect he deserved as a mentor.

"You are my responsibility, Selena. I cannot let you throw your entire life away because of some inferiority complex!" Ah, he had hit a nerve. Selena had just shot another round from her beautiful pistol, and was still holding it out in front of her. The weapon fell to her side as she turned to face Glanduil again, a smug smile curved on her face.

"Back to the yard, Glanduil." She decreed, not even waiting for an answer as she holstered her gun and walked passed him. _Oh, she's trying to punish me,_ Glanduil realized. A jolt of fear shot into the elf's belly as he mentally prepared himself for the beating that was about to come to both his body and his pride. The whole mentor thing didn't really cover sparring with the girl, but ever since she had broken her old "dancing" teacher's leg three months ago he had taken up the mantle himself. The man was one of the greatest swordsman in Aryal, and Selena had apparently toyed with him every time they clashed practice swords.

In time they reached the sparring yard, and Selena took two wooden swords from one of the many stands dotted around the place. She threw one to him and immediately got into her stance. "Come now Selena, this is-" Glanduil's breath was knocked out of him so violently that a pathetic sounding squeal found its way out of his mouth. He had barely seen the girl rush forward and punch him in the stomach. Then before the elf could even bend over and clutch his stomach, Selena swung the flat of her blade through the air and smacked Glanduil straight across the head. The magically reinforced wooden sword broke on Glanduil's head as his body was thrown to the side.

Of course it all seemed to have happened instantly, and a moment later Glanduil was on the floor trying to decided which part of his already battered body to cradle. "Come on, Glandy. That was just a warm up!" came Selena's voice. It seemed to Glanduil to be saturated with the naive energy and happiness children have when they pretend to be dragons while flapping their arms in the wind.

Glanduil looked up from his embarrassing position and saw a smiling Selena bouncing on the balls of her feet with another practice sword in her right hand. Suddenly anger filled him and he dizzily lifted himself off the ground. _I am not some child! It is time this brat of a girl be taught a lesson!_ Glanduil positioned himself into his stance with a growl.

Selena raised her eyebrows and pulled her head back. "Oh, it seems I've hit a nerve." She said with a laugh.

"I will _not_ stand here and be mocked by you, Selena! This will be the last time you show such disrespect to me, I swear to you!" Glanduil said through clenched teeth as the two of them slowly circled each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he faintly registered the sizable crowd that had already formed around him and Selena.

"I have to commend you, Glandy," Selena said right before spinning her body and bringing her sword down vertically onto Glanduil. He redirected the attack with his own sword and put the momentum of his parry into his fist as it flew towards Selena's head. The young elf ducked right before the punch connected and swung her leg against Glanduil's feet, sweeping them out from under him. "You lasted longer than the others," she finished, using the momentum of her sweep to jump back up into the air and bring the sword down onto Glanduil's chest. Against a regular opponent that would have been the end, but Glanduil refused to lose. He brought his sword up just in time to block the blow. The force generated from the hit ran through his arm and jarred his entire body. He then, from his prone position, countered and shot his head forward, hitting Selena in the nose and hearing a satisfying crunch.

Selena let out a piercing cry and the crowd tensed up. Seeing her stagger backward while grasping her nose, Glanduil took advantage of the opportunity and jumped back onto his feet. Surprisingly, Selena was still holding her nose when he got back up. _She's never been hit so hard before._ Glanduil realized. The girl was so gifted that no one had ever hurt her so badly, so she was unaccustomed to the pain. Using this newfound knowledge Glanduil charged forward. He jumped into the air before reaching Selena and spun, catching her on the back of her hand with the full force of his blow. The young elven woman screeched and dropped her sword, which was swiftly followed by a grunt of pain as Glanduil showed off a little bit and back flipped against her body, bringing his foot up to her head and fiercely kicking her in the chin. He landed a few feet away from her, almost crashing into one of their many spectators, just in time to watch with satisfaction as Selena's body limply fell backward to the ground.

Glanduil walked over to her and knelt down next to her. She was out cold, bleeding from her nose. Somewhere deep in his mind Glanduil was panicking. Here was the child of the Blue King, the child he was supposed to teach and protect, totally knocked out at his own hands. Or feet, as it were. Glanduil chuckled slightly at his stupid pun as he whispered "Waise heil." The magic from his small reserve seeped from his body and skipped over Selena's face, mending her broken nose. Glanduil became light headed and realized that he may have strained himself a little bit with his magic. He stood up shakily and looked around the yard. The people who had gathered around to watch his and Selena's fight stared silently. They seemed absolutely dumbfounded that someone had gone so hard on the daughter of the Blue King. Glanduil opened his mouth to speak, and promptly fell straight down into the dirt, out cold.


	4. Family

Selena's head was pounding. She would do anything to slip back into the painless unconsciousness that she had been experiencing not three minutes ago. But it seemed that she was awake for good this time, so the young elf accepted it and lifted her body into a sitting position. Selena involuntarily let out a groan as both her right hand and her head simultaneously screamed out in painful protest.

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" A body had suddenly appeared to her right. Selena turned to face this sudden intruder of her personal space. In front of her stood a tall elven man with silver hair and too many wrinkles for someone of his physiology. He wore a white shirt and a black vest, with black breeches and leggings. His fur coat and black triangular hat hung on the rack positioned next to the door, and seemed to Selena to have been there for quite some time. The elf had rolled his sleeves up to his elbow and was very sweaty and unkempt. Selena sheepishly smiled at the him.

"Hey, Glandy," she said, resting her back against the headboard. Glanduil's eyes widened with surprise.

"You're not angry with me?" he asked. Selena felt appreciation for his concern of her perception of him.

"C'mon, Glandy. Even if I wanted to be angry, you beat me fair and square." Selena threw her blankets back and swung her legs over the bed, ignoring the protests of her body and already itching to get back to the sparring yard. "That's a first, by the way."

"What are you doing?" He asked hysterically.

Selena scoffed. "You don't honestly expect me to stay here for any longer than I have to, do you?" She responded, now on her feet and stretching. "Really, I feel a thousand times better already."

Before Glanduil could respond the door opened, and Selena's ass of a brother walked in. "Good, you're up. It's almost dinner and mother's arrived." He said, just as stern and emotionless as ever.

"Nice to see you too, Evy." Selena looked behind her at the bed. "Oh this? No, I just got knocked out a couple of hours ago, no biggie."

"You know I detest sarcasm." Evandar turned to Glanduil, "My father will be hearing of this, naturally."

"Hey," She said in defense of Glanduil, stepping of front of him. "He's my sparring partner, that's what he's supposed to do."

"He's supposed to spar with you, little sister, not knock you unconscious." The prick said, turning toward the door.

Selena turned to her mentor. He looked sad. "Hey now, none of that." She told him. "I'll see ya tomorrow old man." Selena punched him in the arm and left the room, hearing a faint goodbye from Glanduil.

 _He actually knocked me out!_ She thought with excitement. _I knew he was a good fit!_ A smile spread across Selena's face as she exited the hospital wing and saw her brother and his massive white dragon Iaor. Her smile grew even wilder.

 _Hey you!_ She projected, running forward and wrapping her arms around the dragon's massive snout. Iaor's rumbling laugh shook through her body.

 _Hello, Selena. How are things?_

Selena chuckled. She loved the big goof more than anything. He was the perfect mix of fun, serious, gentle, and fierce that Selena sought out in a friend.

 _Well, I just got knocked out by my sparring partner!_ She climbed onto Iaor's back. _And I'm gonna be graduating from the academy soon! I'll probably be top in my class, unless fucking Andrew passes me-_

 _Language._ Evandar interrupted.

Selena ignored him and continued. _I mean what kind of name is Andrew anyway? Apparently it's growing more popular in the human community. Anyway, today he pretty much threatened me and said he would challenge me to a duel if I sabotaged him, but I'm obviously still gonna do it because there's no way in hell I'm letting that smug bastard get top of the class. Did you know that they voted him most likely to become a rider? Fucking Andrew! A rider! It's ridiculous! Oh, and don't even get me started on his current "friend" Charlotte…_

It continued like this all the way until the Blue Prince, with neither Evandar or his dragon getting a word in. "We've arrived." He proclaimed as Iaor landed and Selena continued to prattle. They hopped off and Selena waved to Iaor as he flew off towards Evandar's mountain.

"It is absolutely _ridiculous_ how much more I like your dragon than you, Evy. I mean I'd so rather him be my brother, without question." Selena teased.

"Good to know, little sister." Evander said as they both entered the house. Selena bounced to the kitchen. Her mood had improved drastically since the afternoon due to her mother being in town. However, she knew she would again slip into her depression and be up for hours tonight with anxiety.

She entered the dining room and actually laughed with delight. Her mother and father sat at the dining room table, eating their food and laughing. Upon hearing Selena enter, her mother turned to her with a smile and stood up. They walked toward each other and embraced, happy to see each other after so many months. Selena loved her mother to death and missed her so much in the months that she wasn't in Aryal. She spent seventy-five percent of her time in Du Weldenvarden, leading the elven people of Alagaesia. The other three months of the year were spent in Yakir, with her family. The only reason that Selena didn't live there with her was because of her father. She couldn't leave him with her statue of a brother.

Her mother broke away from her and looked upon her face. "Just as beautiful as ever, my love." She said with a huge smile.

"Thanks mom," Selena said, hugging her a bit more before breaking away to address her father.

"Hi Selena." Came a voice that sounded like bells. Though she thought it impossible, Selena's smile became even wider. She turned to Hope, her beautiful sister-in-law. She had been gone for three years on a mission for the Blades. Selena absolutely adored her. She was everything Evander wasn't. Kind, gentle, and full of emotion and love. She was the only person that could elicit any kind of emotion from him, and quite frankly, Selena's favorite part about her brother.

She walked toward her sister with outstretched arms. Their hug was cut short, however, by Evander. "Hope?" The sisters broke apart and Hope turned smiling toward her husband.

"Hello, my love." A rare smile spread across Evander's face as he rushed toward her and kissed her.

"Iro didn't tell me you were back yet!" He said with surprise after their lips had parted.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." Hope replied, kissing him again and then taking her seat at the dinner table. Selena and Evandar followed.

The family sat there and chatted. The wisps floated in and out to serve them food and drinks, but Selena had long ago learned to ignore them. She couldn't really say that she loved sitting at the table with her family, but she did enjoy it somewhat whenever all of them could get together. Of course, the people sitting around her weren't all of her family. Selena let out a small sigh as she remembered her uncle Murtagh. It had been ten years since she had seen him. He was far and away her favorite family member to be around. Yes, she loved her mother and enjoyed spending time with her father, and even smiled in Evandar's general direction once in a while. But no one understood her like Murtagh. He knew what it was like to have to live up to impossible standards set by his brother. Her uncle never confessed this to Selena, but she could see it in the way he carried himself. It was the same way she did.

"So Selena, I hear Glanduil gave you quite the thrashing today." Selena's father said with amusement.

"You know, for an old elf Glandy's got some moves." She responded with a bite of bread in her mouth.

"Swallow your food, Selena." Her mother added kindly.

"That was your mistake, Selena. You underestimated him. When you've been in his profession for as long as he has you learn a few things." Eragon continued.

"He only _oversaw_ the hunters."

"Selena, I'm serious. Wolf hunters are some of the most dangerous men and women in all of Yakir. The production of a hunter is dangerous and only the most skilled of men can oversee it." Her father was suddenly very serious.

"Okay, daddy I'll take Glandy seriously."

"Why must you conceive these ridiculous nicknames for people, little sister?" Evander said, attempting to ease the sudden awkwardness that had filled the room.

"I don't think you've ever called me by my actual name, Evy." Selena retorted. That comment caused Evandar to redden and roused laughter from everyone else.

"W-what are you talking about, Selena?" Evandar said.

"See, you saying it just sounds so weird." She responded, scrunching up her nose like she smelt something bad. Even more laughter ensued, and the rest of the night progressed similarly. Soon it was time for Evandar and Hope to leave, and shortly after for her parents to go to sleep. Selena herself usually went to bed much later than her parents, to their irritation. As she was walking up to the second floor of their house, she was stopped by a concerned looking Eragon.

"Hey, we need to talk about tomorrow." He said, sternly but not unkindly.

"Dad," Selena started, "don't worry, I'm feeling lucky. Seventh time's the charm, right?" She started to resume walking up the stairs, but was stopped by her father.

"Selena I know you think yourself lower than your brother." Moments of awkward silence followed.

Selena sighed in defeat. "Dad, I can't even use magic."

"Neither could I before Saphira chose me." Selena looked away. They had had this talk six times before, and it had never helped in the past.

She felt tears rising to the surface of her eyes, which angered her.

"You will have your day Selena. I know you will."

Selena quickly turned to her father. "How do you know, dad! I have tried over and over again, with no success! Every year more and more riders are chosen and I am left behind!"

A tense silence followed. Eragon looked into Selena's eyes and saw the hurt within them. He pulled her into a hug, which was too much for Selena. She started crying. It was soft, with slow tears and quiet sniffles, but it was sadness all the same.

"My sweet daughter…" Eragon said as he stroked Selena's hair. Moments like these came very rarely to him. Both of Eragon's children were extremely distant in their own ways, but he never wavered when it was time to be their father.

It was only a couple of minutes later that Selena's eyes dried and she pulled away from her father. "Thanks, Dad. I… needed that."

"You are strong Selena." He raised his daughter's chin and looked into her eyes. "But no one is a wall. Emotions are not an affliction like you seem to think they are." Selena merely nodded and sniffed. "Go to sleep my child, you have a big day ahead of you." Eragon kissed his daughter's forehead and headed upstairs to his wife, leaving Selena alone with her thoughts and hopes for the night.


	5. A New Friend

Selena had chosen her desk carefully. She hated interacting with the other students, so she always made sure to pick the seat farthest away from them. Luckily, all of the old students were accustomed to her aloofness. Unluckily, the new ones were not. So it was not entirely a surprise to Selena when she heard a voice come from her right.

"May good fortune rule over you."

She looked up from her book on the hierarchy of werewolves. In front of her stood a beautiful elven girl with silver hair and a naturally friendly face. She wore a green tunic, simple enough as outfits go, but odd enough for Selena to identify the girl as Alagaesian. "And may the stars watch over you." Selena responded. The girl seemed relieved to have been greeted properly. Selena guessed that she had been greeting all the elves here in such a manner, and was therefore baffled at the lack of knowledge on the tradition. From that she concluded that the elven girl that stood before her had only just recently arrived in Aryal.

"You're far from home." She said to the girl. She thought that comment to be unfriendly enough to warrant an offended walk off from the girl, but it seemed to do just the opposite.

"Indeed. You're the first person in this city to have greeted me properly! Even some of the elven professors here don't know what they're doing… Do you mind if I sit?" Selena gawked at the girl. She was about to tell the girl to go away, but decided that it would take too much energy. So, instead, she shrugged and returned to her book. "My name's Elaina, by the way." The girl held out her hand in greeting. Selena looked back up at her. _Can't this girl take a hint?_ She thought.

"That's an odd name for elven girl." Selena said, ignoring her hand.

"Indeed it is. Truthfully, I'm not a hundred percent elvish." Selena looked up again, suddenly very interested.

"You're a hybrid? That's very rare." Elaina just smiled.

"Yes, well my father is the Rider Alfonse, so-"

"You're Al's daughter?" Selena did not feel even a little bit guilty about interrupting. Being a hybrid elf-human herself, the subject was very interesting to her.

"Oh… not many know my father well enough to refer to him like that…" Elaina said awkwardly. Selena sensed that the girl was suddenly very uncomfortable. She started to panic. This girl was, apparently, the only other hybrid in existence besides Selena and Evandar.

"Yeah, well, he and my dad work together." Selena said, trying to save the situation.

"Oh, your father works in the government?" Elaina didn't seem quite as scared as she had before.

"Well yeah-" The door to the classroom swung open. Selena looked around and was surprised to see that most of the other seats had been filled. She hadn't even noticed. She then looked toward the door and saw her father stroll in. "Well, he's right there." She pointed at Eragon, and Elaina's jaw dropped.

"Good afternoon children," Eragon started, not waiting for a response, "I am Master Eragon, and today will be the beginning of your advance tutoring on the subject of werewolves. This is the highest Magical Creatures course this esteemed academy offers, and is only given to the very brightest of students. The workload will be far more than you've ever had in previous subjects…"

Selena felt a prod on her arm. She turned to Elaina. "Your dad is _Master Eragon?_ That's amazing!" She whispered. Selena's eyes widened. Before she could warn her, her father's voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Ah, right we haven't been over the talking situation in the classroom." Now Elaina's eyes widened as she shot up straight in her chair. "What's your name, dear?" Eragon asked.

"Elaina, Master Eragon."

"Ah, you're Al's kid." Elaina nodded, her eyes still wide with fear and embarrassment. "I hope you don't think that I will give you special treatment simply because your father is Consul to our city." Elaina became a tomato. Selena felt terribly sorry for her. Her father was known for not messing around when teaching classes.

When it became clear that Eragon expected an answer, Elaina gulped and replied, "N-no sir, Master Eragon."

"Well, you _were_ just talking in my class. I'll just assume that means you already know everything about werewolves."

"N-no sir I-"

"Silence, child." Eragon did not shout. His tone and demeanor did not change at all. Yet Elaina shut her mouth, all the same. "Since you already know all this class has to offer, why not tell me the origins of the werewolf?" The silence in the room was thick and uncomfortable. Selena looked at Elaina, praying that she knew the answer. For whatever reason, she really liked the girl.

After a moment of silence, she answered. "Well it all started with Ran the Red Wolf, correct?"

Eragon's expression did not change, but he nodded for her to continue. "Well, he was an unusually large warg that dwelled in the Caetz Forest, where the Vampires live. The legend goes that he was given the power to transform into the shape of a man by the Vampire Praigma… a-and that's where werewolves come from."

Again there was silence for a moment. Then Eragon nodded his head. "Very good, child." Elaina exhaled deeply, and slumped in her chair. She turned and smiled at Selena, who gave her a quick thumbs up before reverting her attention back to her father.

"But this is no legend," He continued. "The Red Wolf Ran was very real, and one of the most dangerous things to ever happen to this world. Not even the Council of Seven could take him down by themselves. It took them, the dragons, and all of Yakir to take down Ran's pack of wolves. Some experts estimate that the pack numbered somewhere in the hundreds of thousands, while others say that it barely scraped over ten-thousand. Either way, Ran the Red Wolf was eventually killed and his pack broken apart. Now the average pack of werewolves is comprised of only about fifteen wolves, maybe twenty, depending on how strong the alpha is." He paused there to let the rest of the students catch up on their notes. Selena had finished as he had, being an extremely proficient note taker. Once the class was caught up, Eragon continued.

"If you would please turn to page two-seventy-three in your textbook, _The Yakirian Werewolf,_ we can begin. Yes?" He asked, not evening having to look up from his lesson plan to see the hand that had shot up. Selena looked to see who it was and her stomach twisted with loathing when she saw. _Andrew._

"Um, that is unit three already Master Eragon." _Are you stupid?_ Selena thought.

"Yes, we will be coming back to "The Social Life of the Wolf" and "The Enemies of the Wolf" later. Right now, we will be studying the unit covering the physiology of werewolves, titled "How to Spot a Wolf." One would think this would be unit one, don't you agree?" Eragon's last comment bulged with sarcasm, and Selena was happy to see the blood rush to Andrew's face.

"Your assignment is as follows," Eragon said. "Read the first chapter of the unit to yourselves. Then we will have a class debate. You will be reading about the two breeds of werewolf considered to be the most dangerous, Alpine and Grove. Said debate will be over which breed is, in your opinion, more dangerous than the other and why. Begin."

* * *

"While the Grove breed is indeed larger on average than the Alpine, Alpines are faster." Selena was almost shouting. She was so flustered. The debate was very obviously weighted in favor of the Grove werewolves. The Grove group had heaps of evidence against the Alpine group, and it seemed to Selena that the only competent debaters on her side were herself and Elaina.

"On top of that their packs are, on average, three to seven wolves larger than a Grove pack's. In keeping with the pack mentality that werewolves possess, it would stand to reason that a pack of faster, albeit smaller wolves, with a larger number of overall wolves, would be more dangerous, in general, than a pack of larger wolves, with less overall wolves." Selena sat down again, completely out of breath and about to give in. That was their last piece of solid evidence and she knew exactly how the opposing side would counter.

"As rationally sound as your argument is," _Ugh, of course it's Andrew!_ Selena thought. _What better way to add salt to the wound?_ "There have been literally thousands of accounts throughout history of packs of Alpine wolves getting absolutely decimated by much smaller packs of Grove wolves when the Alpines strayed too close to the edge of the Groves' forest territory. Very rarely do the Alpines ever emerge the victors in these circumstances." That was it. They had no counter to that. They had given it a good go, but the Grove team had the debate in the bag.

"Well, of course the Alpines never won!" Selena turned her head in surprise to Elaina, who was just as flustered and sweaty as she. She seemed to have a counter. Selena straightened up in her chair. _Come on, girl. Win this for us._ "In all of those recorded instances the only reason the packs engaged each other at all was because the Alpines were infringing upon the Groves' territory!" Selena thought she knew the direction in which Elaina was going, but she couldn't see where she would find the appropriate evidence to back her claim.

"So what?" Andrew responded, sounding annoyingly cocky. "Why does it matter why they quarreled?"

"Not why, where!" Elaina sounded triumphant already, which actually instilled some confidence into Selena. "Of course the Alpines lost the majority of those battles, it wasn't their home! They weren't used to the environment and terrain of the forest like the Grove wolves were. And yet they still came out on top some of the times!" Selena sat up in her chair. The Grove team had to respond.

"A bold enough claim, but worthless without proof, Elaina." Eragon said, observing from his desk.

"Of course. If you would all turn to page five-hundred and seven-"

"Wait that wasn't the section we were supposed to read!" Andrew interrupted, sounding very angry.

"No, this unit is titled 'The Hunting and Attack Strategies of the Wolf.' It focuses mainly on Sand Wolves, as they have the most generalized forms of hunting and such, but there is a short excerpt on territorial quarrels between Alpine and Grove wolves in the mountains! Which is the Alpine wolf's natural territory! It reads-"

"Master Eragon, this can't be allowed!" Andrew turned to Eragon. He sounded indignant. Eragon simply shrugged his shoulders. "I gave you a minimal amount of reading that I thought would help you in the debate. Whether or not any individual among you decided to do extra to help his or her team in the debate was up to that individual. I will not punish Elaina for intelligence and resourcefulness." Selena was ecstatic. _He looks like he's about to cry!_ She thought. She turned to look at Elaina, _Oh I could fucking kiss you right now!_

"Thank you, Master Eragon." The elven girl said. "Now, as I was saying, the passage reads: _'There have been very few recorded instances of Grove werewolves entering the territory of Alpine werewolves uninvited. However, in each of these rare instances, the Alpine wolves' superior communication skills and speed, paired with their equally superior knowledge of the terrain, resulted in the massacre of each pack of Grove werewolves. Not once did a pack of Groves exit these confrontations victoriously, unveiling a sizable amount of information concerning the strength of the smaller Alpine werewolves.'"_ Elaina looked up from her book, a triumphant grin spread from ear to ear. Selena looked from her to Andrew, and her heart almost burst.

The Grove team huddled up and started whispering among themselves. Meanwhile, Selena and the rest of the Alpine team grouped around the new girl and bombarded her with compliments and friendly banter. Minutes went by and the Grove team could not find anything in the book to help them retort.

"Have you any response, Grove team?" Eragon asked, seeming very proud of Elaina.

"If we could just have a few more minutes, sir-" Andrew started.

"You've had enough time, Andrew." Eragon interrupted. Andrew very quickly stopped talking. "I think this debate has come to an end. I will go over my notes and announce the winning team next class." He shuffled his papers. "I was planning on assigning homework today. However, Elaina's resourcefulness has put me in a very good mood. Your lack of homework for this class is owed to her and her alone. Class dismissed." And suddenly there was no Grove team or Alpine team. There was just the class and Elaina. They bunched around her, all trying to talk to her and thanking her for the homework situation. Selena was the only one not in the pack. She just sat in her chair and smiled after the group. She had never liked someone as much as she liked Elaina. It was funny, Selena never really had a true female friend. Perhaps it was finally time to change that.

"Selena, a moment please." She turned to her father. He was waiting for her at his desk.

"Really, dad? Right as I'm about to leave?" She teased.

"How are you doing?" _Dead inside._ Selena thought. However, she couldn't let her father know that. So she smiled and pretended to brush it off.

"It's been three weeks, dad. I've handled this kind of rejection many times before." The truth of the matter was that she was extremely depressed. It was always very hard to lie in the Ancient Language, which was one of the reasons Yakir had such a low crime rate. But you could sneak around the lying barrier indirectly if you knew how.

Eragon didn't seem to trust that his daughter was doing fine, but apparently he decided against pursuing it. "Well, just stay positive. Just because you weren't chosen doesn't mean you're any less than anyone else in Aryal, or our family. Okay?" He lifted Selena's chin up and looked her in the eyes.

"Okay, dad."


	6. The Hunter

Eragon lay in his bed next to his wife, slowly twirling a lock of her hair in his left hand as she rested against him. He was thinking about Selena and the obvious depression that plagued her.

"What's the matter, my love?" Arya asked. Eragon just chuckled.

"How are you so perceptive, Arya? And don't say it's because I'm your husband because I cannot do that with you." She merely chuckled back.

"I'm disappointed, Eragon. You know everything there is to know about me and yet you still cannot properly read me?"

"You're not exactly an open book, darling." They both laughed happily, more at the fact that they were with each other than at the joke.

"If you must know," Eragon said, "it's our daughter."

"Aye, she plagues my dreams as well."

"She won't let me help her! She shuts everyone out!"

"She takes after me, my love." Arya looked up into Eragon's eyes. "But she is also strong, like you. As much as you want to help her, perhaps it is better if you simply leave her to find her own path. I always did, and I wasn't half as strong as she is."

"Yes, but I know what the problem is. It's a classic case of low self-esteem. I've lived long enough to know it when I see it."

"She thinks that she isn't as good as her brother?" Arya asked.

"No, it's more than that. It's that she's not a rider." Eragon answered.

"Ah, I see…" Arya delved into her thoughts.

After a few moments of silence she spoke up again. "I have a suggestion."

"I'm all ears." Eragon said, hoping that his brilliant wife had a solution to their problem.

"Let her join your group of wolf hunters."

"Absolutely not." Eragon said immediately.

"Why not?" Arya said, propping herself up on her arm and frowning at Eragon. He followed suit.

"Arya, the hunters are comprised of the highest ranking and most powerful riders in the Corps!"

"Exactly!" Arya exclaimed. "That would show Selena that she is just as valuable as any rider in the Corps. And don't tell me she can't keep up, she is more than capable of hunting werewolves if she received the proper training!"

"Arya, you don't understand. We're not hunting werewolves. We're hunting _a_ wolf. One in particular! Silverback is the most dangerous wolf the world has ever seen since Ran! If anything happened-"

"Evandar is in the group, do not spew falsities about your concern for her safety!" Arya interjected.

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Not this again, Arya. I've told you he insists upon it, there's nothing I can do!"

"And if Selena insists upon it? What then?"

"That's… different." Eragon said, looking away.

"How is it-"

"Because she's nineteen!" Eragon shouted. Arya recoiled in surprise. "She's nineteen and she's my daughter! She's _our_ daughter. You don't understand the… the things we had to do in order to gain the skills required to properly hunt a werewolf, Arya. I _refuse_ to put my baby through that! I-"

" _Eragon."_ He shivered into calmness as Arya said his true name and touched his cheek. He realized that he was crying.

Eragon exhaled deeply and laced his hand through his wife's. She moved forward and hugged him. He returned her embrace and let the tears flow. He did not cry because of the horrors that he had spoken of, but because he could never tell the love of his life what they were.

Arya broke apart from him and looked him in the eyes. In them Eragon saw what he always saw when he gazed into her emerald eyes. A fierce, wild love for him and her family. A love that would burn kingdoms and massacre cities to keep them safe. As powerful as he was, Eragon felt small and protected in her gaze. He smiled and moved forward to kiss Arya. After a couple of moments Arya climbed onto his lap and pushed him into a lying position. She then proceeded to unbutton her sleeping gown.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we had another child?" Eragon commented as he moved his hands up to cup her breasts. His mood had improved drastically. She just smiled in response, and slowly slid down his body to pleasure him.

* * *

Eragon and Kisgreg sat in the highest room of the tallest tower of the massive stone castle that served as the Rider Academy. Despite being the tallest point in the castle, Eragon's study was rather small, though it served its purpose. Only in that moment, when he was expecting a visitor from outside of the Academy, did he realize how messy and unclean the room was.

Apparently, so did Kisgreg. "Orik's beard, Eragon how the hell do you find anything in this mess?"

"It's pretty bad isn't it?"

"This is why I'm glad I teach a practical course. No books or papers, just combat. Mine is the office of the warrior, the sparring yard where boys are forged into men and then into riders."

"How poetic." Eragon teased.

Kisgreg simply snorted. "When was the last time you seriously drew Brisingr, brother? Has to be at least three hundred years at this point, right?"

"Something like that. However, I did use Kasaf a couple of years back when Grimgar's pack started raiding our trade routes." Eragon said, referring to his silver blade. In Yakir all warriors, Riders and the like, carried one steel weapon and one silver weapon. This was due to the constant threat of werewolves when traveling the roads. Of course, a human would never stand a chance against a werewolf, silver blade or no, but having two swords strapped onto you does have a certain factor of intimidation. The only hope a human had of killing a werewolf was a wolfsbane pistol, and those were extremely rare.

"Aye, the largest wolf hunt ever seen north of the Bas-Yag." Kisgreg said, sounding sentimental. "Now that was a hunt. Twenty-five Grove wolves, the largest recorded pack in history. And we got 'em all. Hell, it's been awhile since I've had a rush like that."

"Perhaps this little endeavor of yours will prove worthy." Eragon said with distaste.  
"Hush now, he's here." Kisgreg responded. Indeed he was, Eragon could hear the wolf hunter ascending the marble stairs to his study.

A couple of moments later, the door opened and in stepped the man. He wasn't terribly well dressed, which was to be expected after the several months of travel he had to endure to come all the way to Aryal from the Teerah in the South. He was human, as were all of the wolf hunters, and looked older than usual.

 _He must have been turned in his later years._ Saphira commented. She was perched outside on the pad that was directly to the left of Eragon's tower.

 _Aye._ Responded Eragon. _I wonder what his crime was?_

 _Sexual deviance._ Saphira said jokingly. It took all of Eragon's willpower not to laugh out loud.

The man had luscious silver hair that flowed back and shined. His bushy sideburns formed an even bushier mustache, just as silver as his hair. He wore a grey great jacket with a white shirt underneath, with trousers and stocking on his legs. The hunter held his triangular hat in his hands as he bowed to the two of them.

"Rider Eragon, Rider Kisgreg, a pleasure to finally meet you." The man had a very soothing Southern accent. It made Eragon uneasy. "I am Shango Montelli, Brigadier General of the eleventh division of his majesty's gallant wolf hunters and acting Lord Commander of the Teerah." Shango straightened up from his bow. "At your service."

"The Wolf's Bane." Kisgreg said with feigned admiration.

"I see my reputation proceeds me." The hunter gave an unsettling large smile. "My I sit?"

"Of course, brother!" Kisgreg gestured toward the chair in front of the desk. Shango placed his hat and coat and the rack near the door and moved forward to sit. Instantly Eragon started analyzing him. His left leg swung slightly faster than his right, showing he was left-handed. His clothes, despite being wrinkled from the journey, were overly clean. However, there were no dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he slept well on the road. From that observation, Eragon deduced the man didn't suffer from mysophobia. This meant that he was extremely light on his feet, as nothing was swept up onto his body as he ran across the country, which he knew Shango did on foot due to the lack of horse smell about his person.

Saphira noted that the hunter had indents on his left arm, due to the changes in air pressure they caused. The indents formed the shape of a cross within a circle, most likely a brand he had suffered from before he had been turned. His boots were coated, ever so lightly, with Kyokinian soil, which indicated that he ran through the country of Kyokin. Eragon noted that he had taken an extremely delayed route through the eastern country and still arrived on time.

Eragon and Saphira made several more minimal observations before arriving to their last. The hunter's eyes moved just as Eragon's did. That is to say, not only did he fully analyze every fiber of Eragon and Kisgreg's physical being, but he also had someone helping him.

 _The king no longer trusts us._ Saphira snarled

 _No…_ thought Eragon, _Calvin has never been anything other than a great friend to the riders. This act of betrayal was orchestrated solely by the man before us and his partner._

The whole process, including the paraphrased conversation, lasted for all but a millisecond. Afterward Eragon simply looked into the man's eyes. He had found that silence often spoke much louder than words. A person can feign anything in speech: confidence, politeness, kindness, hatred; but in silence, only the truth is revealed.

The hunter stared back proficiently, revealing nothing more than his unsettling smile. Or so he thought.

 _He is old._ Eragon remarked.

 _Very old._ Saphira agreed. A man needed centuries of experience to create a wall so thick it could withstand the onslaught of Eragon's eyes. Seconds passed by, then a whole minute; Shango revealed nothing. Eragon shifted in his seat and felt Saphira heave a great sigh.

 _I suppose we must do this the easy way._ She said, sounding disappointed.

 _It is always good to attempt the more traditional methods of deduction first, so as not to become reliant on our newly developed one._ Replied Eragon.

In his mind, he uttered the name of the ancient language. Instantly an endless pool of energy and knowledge opened to him. Eragon became overwhelmed by the pool and, had it not been for Saphira acting as his anchor, would've been drawn into it and lost forever.

Still looking at Shango, Eragon began picking out details. Noting too intimate, such as his true name or the size of his trousers, but important bits of information. Shango was the thirty-seventh wolf hunter ever created, back when the process was new and powerful, and therefore was the currently oldest one in existence. The previously mentioned mystery partner was a young but powerful hunter by the name of William, whom Shango had brought along as a safety precaution, not a means to deceive them.

 _Even the great wolf hunters of George fear the rider corps._ Saphira said with a satisfied snort.

 _Fear is not our goal, Saphira. Might does not make right._ Eragon responded.

 _On the contrary, little one. It is the responsibility of the mighty to be right. And while many fail in that regard, we do not._

Eragon felt his chest rise as pride filled him. _You grow ever wiser, o Dragon._

 _A dragon without her rider, is a dragon lost, o Shadeslayer._

"So," Eragon finally began, "Shango. That's certainly not a Southern name."

The hunter's smile did not waiver. "It was when I was alive, Master Eragon."

"Please, the formalities are for the students. I am simply Eragon Bromsson, son of Carvahall."

Shango lifted a bushy eyebrow. "It seems the stories are correct, Eragon. As humble as he is powerful; that is to say, more and more every day."

Eragon chuckled. "On the contrary, friend, I feel my ancient age has finally caught up with me. After all, if I was as powerful as the bards and minstrels say, I wouldn't be in need of your assistance, would I?" Everyone laughed. Things seemed to be going swimmingly.

"So tell me Shango…" Eragon started, not letting his smile waiver for an instant, "Will you be able to help our makeshift group of hunters track down Silverback?"

"But of course! After all, I was the lead tracker for George when we fought Ran's wolves, I doubt some withered grey wolf should pose any threat." He leaned back in confidence.

"Oh really?" Eragon raised his eyebrows in mock surprised. "Well, then I am confused."

Shango instantly perceived what was happening.

"Well, Master Eragon, I hope that I can help you to better understand whatever it is you are confused about."

Eragon let a couple of moments of silence enveloped the room before speaking again.

"Why do you bring a second hunter along with you, without our knowledge?" Just as expected, tension filled the room. Eragon instantly felt Kisgreg's mental probe attempt to break through his barrier, but he pushed him aside.

The hunter's smile was gone. Now he wore a mask of suspicion.

After a couple of moments, the hunter spoke. "I was warned about you, Eragon. They say there is nothing you do not know. I have been alive far longer than you, I have deceived men much smarter than you… and yet, somehow, you know of William." Shango squinted his eyes in inspection, trying to single out anything odd about Eragon's character.

However, since the hunter had not yet answered him, Eragon simply sat and waited.

"Well, if you must know," Shango begun, reverting back to his collected, smiling self. "I was afraid. They say you are the most powerful man in Yakir, and today it has been proven to me. William is simply a precaution." His answer was an honest one, which satisfied Eragon.

"Very well, Mr. Montelli, my colleague and I will overlook your breach of our trust." Eragon glanced at Kisgreg. He sat with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, as he usually did when Eragon justifies his rudeness with guests. "My steward, Blodhgarm, will show you to your quarters. You've no doubt had a tedious journey, so you have the rest of the day to recuperate." Shango stood up and offered his hand to Eragon. He followed suit and grasped the hunter's hand firmly.

"I think this is the beginning of wonderful friendship, Eragon Shadeslayer." Shango said with a smile.

"We shall see, Shango. We shall see."


	7. Rumors

Eragon strolled into the sparring yard with a sense of wild nostalgia. Days of hard training and sweaty bodies rushed back to him in a wave of melancholy longing. He remembered the first years of his time in Yakir with Blodhgarm and his first rider-in-training, Eragon's niece Ismira. Had it not been for the reigning king at the time, Charles Scornhold, they would not have survived. Eragon had lived in Aryal for many centuries, and he had seen every King of Yakir that had followed after Charles. Fortunately for the riders, and the country as a whole, the Scornhold bloodline produced good, smart men with pure intentions. Charles had welcomed Eragon and Saphira with open arms, saying a Corps of riders in Yakir would boost the at the time small country's reputation and fame. He had sent workers, immigrants, soldiers, everything one needed to establish a thriving city.

"Quite a beautiful city, Shadeslayer." Shango said as Eragon approached him. He stood by himself, a few feet away from the Corp's specialized group of wolf hunters.

"Not quite like Yerushalmi, but we manage." Eragon replied.

"On the contrary, I find your Aryal is much more sophisticated. The capital is so old and ugly, I think the architecture you've developed here is quite easy on the eyes."

"It was greatly influenced by Alegaesian building techniques. Having a little taste of home helped the early immigrants settle in." Shango smiled and nodded, something Eragon was quickly noticing the wolf hunter did quite often.

He turned to the match currently occurring in their section of the yard. Two men sparred with one another, both masterfully parrying and dodging the other's blows. One elf and one human, they both embodied their races biological characteristics. The elf was swift, graceful ducking and diving and being defensive, in the hope of tiring out his adversary. The human fought aggressively, using his emotions to fuel his attacks and give him strength. He was keeping up with the elf, as he was Shango's companion William, but he was being fooled. The elf was Eragon's son, the finest rider ever seen in Yakir, and he was very obviously holding back. William panted and heaved, wildly swing his sword and progressively becoming slower and clumsier. Evandar showed no sign of fatigue and continued dodging and blocking with speed and accuracy.

"He is talented. You trained him?" Eragon asked.

Shango shook his head. "William's different."

"How so?"

"For four hundred years, Glanduil Fensson oversaw and trained our hunters. After he retired the task fell on me." Shango never looked away from William and Evander as he spoke. "Most hunters who survive the Trial of Penance are sent to the Teerah only after a couple of years of training in the capital. I complete their training there, and the protocol is that every year his Majesty the King Calvin makes the lengthy journey to inaugurate any new hunters."

"There used to be at least two hunters a year three centuries ago, what's happened?" Eragon was genuinely surprised.

"We only use the worst criminals. Serial rapists and murderers, child molesters, powerful warmongers. These are not men the gods want alive, Eragon."

"So you think it is divine intervention?"  
Shango shook his head. "Yes and no, Shadeslayer. They aren't intervening to impede the wolf hunters of Yakir, we are of a noble cause."

"Indeed." Eragon agreed.

"However, the horde is larger than ever. We do not need any more." Eragon studied Shango, curious about this new information he was receiving.

"If your horde is larger than ever, why do you sound so downtrodden?"

Shango sighed and for the first time in the short months Eragon had known the man, he looked old. "The werewolves are changing, Master Eragon. They grow stronger with each generation, multiplying like flies. The alphas of the packs take multiple fertile wives, take female prisoners as sex slaves, and rape and pillage villages. Innocent women are giving birth to monstrosities. And yet each individual wolf's power does not lessen. On the contrary, it has been on a steady incline ever since we killed Ran." At this moment, Eragon felt pity for Shango. As much as he didn't trust the man, his loyalty to the land and to Calvin, a good king, was unquestionable. In the end, all he wanted was the protection of his king and his home.

"I thought Lady Praigma said the werewolves would grow weaker with their Alpha out of the picture." Eragon asked.

"It seems she was wrong, I'm afraid."

"Well Shango, I've heard some pretty disturbing rumors on the subject." Shango turned to Eragon, surprised.

"Oh? Please enlighten me."

"About three decades ago I was at the Silver Pond, talking with Lord Uuza about opening up some more trade lines to his coven from Aryal. A then recent string of werewolf attacks had decimated ten percent of his army and lost him many of his weapons and firearms. He needed the extra silver in order to reproduce what he lost."

"Yes," Shango agreed. "Uuza turned to King George as well, asking for assistance. I went over with a pack of hunters and snuffed out the wolves that were causing him so much trouble."

"Yes, the great Purge of Silver Pond. You wiped out most of the Sand Wolves in the Northern Plains."

Shango smiled proudly as he remembered. "From the Pond to the Yakirian Sea. Three years it took us. Not nearly as large scale as the Bas-Yag campaign you and you riders undertook, but significant nonetheless."

Eragon smiled and nodded. "Uuza told me the same thing you are telling me, but he said he thought it was because the Red Wolf Ran was still alive."

"Impossible." Shango said immediately. The aggression and assertion in his voice did not surprise Eragon. The Caetz War saw many more lives lost on the hunters' side, despite their victory. "Arch-hunter Hex drove his sword through Ran's heart, I saw it with my own eyes."

"Exactly what I told Lord Uuza. But lately the people have been talking. Silverback has terrorized the entire Northwestern part of Yakir and half of the Caetz as well, from the shores of the Egan to the valleys of our mountains. Towns, villages, supply lines, all at the mercy of a grey coated werewolf and his relatively small pack."

"Aye it's small, but his is a Grove pack. The strongest wolves out there. Ran himself was closest to a Grove wolf." Shango explained.

"Yes, and the people of Aryal and Nahan know that. What happened when Charles the fourth sent his most elite group of hunters to aid us?"

"Hex found the pack's cave and-"

"Wiped himself and his entire team out." Eragon interrupted. "Hex was the first, the most powerful hunter Yakir has ever seen. And he was ripped to shreds. No normal wolf can do that."  
"Are you implying that Silverback is the Red Wolf?" Shango seemed to Eragon to be taking great offense.

"I am not implying anything. But the people are scared. They are the ones saying it is Ran, or perhaps an incarnation of Ran."

"Absolute absurdity. Ran was killed. He will never return." Silence enveloped the two of them. The match between Evandar and William was still going on. Eragon had noticed that Shango had adopted a crazed and defensive air as their conversation had ended. He was in denial that Ran could ever return, and though it was logical and justified it seemed unhealthy to Eragon.

A scream rang out from the sparring match. Eragon turned to watch. William was desperate, swing wildly and leaving himself open. He had stopped defending and had switched to complete offensive mode, effectively tiring himself out the more he went. Evander was as calm and composed as ever, parrying Williams horizontal slashes, dodging his upward blows, jumping over his leg sweeps; he barely ever attacked, and when he did they were quick and weak.

The two broke apart momentarily and William stood panting. He was a young lad, couldn't have been over twenty when he was turned. Eragon stood there wondering what such a young man could've done to have been sentenced to the Trial of Penance.

The boy was of impressive stature. He was broad, tall and athletic. He had slicked back black hair and dark blue eyes, with attractive facial features and pearly white teeth.

 _The girls must love him._ Saphira joked.

Eragon smiled. _Welcome home, Saphira._

 _Thank you, little one. How goes the sparring?_

 _This William is skilled. Fast and strong._

 _And yet Evandar is toying with him._ Eragon mentally heard Saphira snort. _These wolf hunters get more and more pathetic every year._

 _Give the boy some credit, Saphira. No one has ever beaten Evander._

 _He fills me with pride._ Saphira said

 _That he does, Saphira._

William let out a scream and rushed toward Evandar. He brought his sword down on Evandar from over his head, a very clumsy thing to do, and feinted to Evandar's left at the last minute. Evandar lazily knocked the blow aside and brought his palm against William's chest. That seemed to offend William, as he charged again, this time stabbing at Evandar's right leg. Evandar easily sidestepped and swung his sword sideways toward Williams's neck, which William narrowly dodged. They circled each other, William panting and Evandar strolling. Again William attacked, and again, and again, over and over until he was sweating bullets and it seemed he could barely hold his sword. They had been going for hours, and the poor boy was nearly out of stamina.

Eventually Kisgreg got annoyed and yelled "Stop playing with your food boy, end the damn thing! I'm hungry." Evandar turned around and raised a cocky eyebrow at Kisgreg. Instantly William saw his chance and charged forward. Eragon saw Evandar's ears twitch as he heard the surprise attack, but he did not move. William swung downwards at Evandar's back with the speed and ferocity of an Aryae. Without breaking eye contact with Kisgreg, Evandar dodged the blow moments before it connected, swiftly stepped back and jerked his elbow back into William's nose. A loud crack filled the yard as the boy fell backward to the ground. Evandar flashily swung his sword over and around is head before sheathing it into his scabbard.

The rider Samson rushed forward. He was the group's healer, and Eragon's fourth student in Aryal. He lifted up Williams head to inspect it. He was bleeding profusely from his nose, which was obviously broken. He was also knocked out.

"Your son is truly skilled, Shadeslayer." Shango commented as they walked toward William.

"Do not discount your own pupil, Shango. There are few who can say they lasted that many hours with the White Knight of the Riders."

Shango chuckled. "I think what you mean to say is that there are few with whom the White Knight so thoroughly enjoyes toying with." Both chuckled.

As Shango went to assist Samson in the healing process, Eragon walked over to Evandar.

He was talking to Utvesz the Giant, one of the three Urgal riders in their group of wolf hunters and Eragon's third ever pupil. At eight feet and nine inches tall, he was to this day the largest urgal Eragon had ever seen. He and his dark green dragon Goldallen were symbols of strength and resilience to the countries of Yakir and Alagaesia, and symbols of the lasting peace between the inhabitants of Alagaesia and the urgals.

"I do not see why you must constantly toy with your opponents, Evandar. Why waste your energy on such a useless task?" The kull was sitting at a bench with his green sword Edur across his lap. Evandar stood opposite him.

"I was simply having fun, Utvesz. The boy is clearly not anywhere near our league, so I decided to toy with him a bit. There was no harm done."

"You broke his nose, son." Eragon said as he walked up.

Evander turned his head towards his father and chuckled. "Come now, father. A broken nose is nothing a simple spell can't fix."

"And the concussion you most likely gave him?" Eragon asked, crossing his arms.

Evandar stared at his father, surprised at the hostility. Turning his whole body to face Eragon, he said, "It is not my fault that abomination of a human being brought another one of his kind into our ranks without our knowledge. I was just letting out the anger I felt at their attempted deception."

Eragon shook his head. "That," he pointed to William, "was not behavior appropriate of the Lord Commander of the Blades of the Blue King. I am ashamed of what I just witnessed."

Evandar simply chuckled. "Father, please-"

"Silence, child." Eragon said. He said it calmly and not overly loud, but he let some of his power seep into his voice. Instantly, everyone who heard went silent, including Shango. Evandar's smug smile was off his face and had been replaced with a hard line. "When William wakes up, you are going to apologize for breaking his nose and any other injuries you may have caused him."

Evandar looked into his father's eyes rebelliously and then gave a short "Yes, Master Eragon." He walked over to the now conscious William, and helped him to his feet. Evandar held his hand out in a sign of friendship. "My apologies. It seemed I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself." William looked at Evandar and took his hand.

"No harm done. Thank you for your apology, you are quite the swordsman." William responded. Evandar quickly nodded his head and walked away. Iaor quickly swept down and grabbed Evandar up into the sky.

Eragon shook his head. "I don't like his attitude of late." He said to Utvesz.

"Even when they leave us, our children are our responsibility. They hate that and disrespect us in defiance. It is not malice, my friend." The urgal responded.

"One would think four hundred and fifty years would be more than enough time to be defiant." Said Eragon in response. Utvesz merely chuckled.

"Stiv, my oldest, is going to be eight hundred and thirty in three days. I'm only fifty-three years older than him. And yet he is still rebellious towards me. You must simply learn to live with it."

"Aye, I suppose you're right, old friend."

"Well, I must be off. I have class in ten minutes." Utvesz got up and sheathed his sword. "Until we meet again, Master Eragon." Eragon nodded in response and Utvesz walked away.

Eragon approached the two wolf hunters. Shango seemed to be attempting to comfort William, as he had his hand on his shoulder.

"He's the most powerful rider in Yakir, William. You did well against him. You stood your ground."

"I was sloppy and he toyed with me." William looked up at Shango with shame in his eyes. "How am I supposed to hunt wolves if I can't even beat one elf?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself, my friend." William looked at Eragon. "I don't believe we've officially met yet. I'm Eragon." He held out his hand.

"Master Eragon, it's an honor, truly..." Despite his mood, Eragon noticed the boy had a firm handshake. A good sign.  
"My first time facing my brother, Murtaugh, in rider to rider combat, he acted as my son did today." William seemed shocked that Eragon would talk ill of his own brother. "That is to say, like a child."

"I know of this fight, Master Eragon. I have studied the fall of the Broddring Empire extensively. It's very fascinating to me."

"Well then let me tell you something that might help." Eragon put his hand on the young hunter's shoulder. "Murtaugh hasn't beat me since. Not once. And trust me when I say, that isn't because I put myself down. Believe in yourself. You have one of the greatest wolf hunters Yakir's ever seen as your teacher." He gestured toward Shango. "And between you and me, I see much more potential in you, than I ever did in Shango." William smiled.

"Thank you for saying that, Master Eragon. You truly are as wise as the bards say."

Eragon simply chuckled. "I think stubborn might be a better word." William laughed and Shango chuckled. "How old are you, William?"

"Only twenty-four. I was turned when I was nineteen."

"My daughter's the same age, and is constantly complaining about how she can't find a suitable sparring partner. Would you like to meet her?"

Suddenly, Shango interjected. "I don't think that would be the best of ideas."

Eragon frowned at Shango. "And why not, Shango?"

"Well, I intend no offense of course, but your nineteen year old _daughter?_ Such a delicate thing shouldn't be sparring anybody, let alone a wolf hunter." Eragon narrowed his eyes at the man for a moment before responding.

"Yes, I forget about the lack of elves in this country outside of Aryal. An atmosphere of sexism and misogyny poisons the minds of its people. I intend no offense, of course." Eragon added, taking pleasure when Shango's eye twitched ever so slightly. Still looking at Shango, Eragon said, "Have you ever ridden a dragon before, William?"

"No, sir!" William responded, excited.

"Have you ever seen a dragon?"

"Well yes, but not up close."

Eragon smiled and raised his eyebrow, as the sound of Saphira's massive wings flapping in the air permeated the sparring yard. William observed with awe as Eragon's massive blue dragon shook the ground with her melodic strokes. After a few moments of dramatic hovering Saphira landed, causing everyone in the courtyard, except Eragon of course, to stumble where they stood.

 _Greetings, young hunter._ Saphira projected.

"Mother Saphira," William said allowed, "You are truly a marvel to behold."

 _That I am, little hunter._

"Come now, Saphira, let's be modest." Eragon said.

 _Modesty is a human affliction. I refuse to be infected._ Saphira let loose a small jet of blue flame from her nostrils to emphasize.

"Climb aboard, you two. I'm afraid she isn't wearing her three person saddle, so you'll just have to squeeze into the one person. Should be enough room, though. I've gotten fat in my old age." Eragon patted the slight bulge that had formed over his once sculpted stomach.

"Are you sure, Master Eragon? Will she just carry you up with her claws?" William asked as he began climbing onto Saphira.

"Aye, we've done it many a time. It's quite fun actually, if Saphira can avoid stabbing your shoulder." Shango and William laughed.

"Oh, I am completely serious. Almost lost my arm." Eragon allowed a moment of silence before laughing. "Oh come now, I'm sure we've all been through worse!"

"Not me, sir. I have yet to engage in actual combat." William said bashfully.

"Yet another thing you and my daughter have in common. I have a feeling you two will become friends rather quickly." As he ended, Saphira started taking flight.

Higher and higher she ascended, until she pushed up and shot forward through the air. After a moment of flying she began to curve around toward Eragon again.

 _Damn I hate this trick. Arya always makes it look so easy._ Eragon told his dragon as he attempted to control the rising amounts of fear flooding his body.

 _Be ready, little one. I approach._

Eragon tensed his shoulders and let Saphira take him up. In no time he was hundreds of feet in the air, with Saphira's warm claws around him, as all four of them flew swiftly toward the Blue Prince.


	8. Epiphany

Selena sat on the ground with her back against the wall of their living room, with three books open in front of her and one in her hand. Elaina was a little ways across the room, standing in front of an easel. In her left hand she held the book _Encounters and Stories of Werewolves,_ by Thurag Grostum, and was open to the Urgal's painting of a wolf. They sat there in silence, each working diligently on her respective task and enjoying each other's presence.

"What's the average size for werewolves again?" Elaina asked, stepping back and looking at her painting.

"About seven and a half feet, for Groves at least." Selena responded lazily, not even looking up from her copy of _The Yakirian Werewolf._

"And how tall is the average Kull, would you say?"

"You're using an urgal?" Selena looked up from her book.

"Well I tried to think of the scariest race, and an Urgal was the first image that popped into my mind."

"Well, Urgals are as tall as werewolves, and Kull are even taller, so you'll have to draw the largest werewolf ever if you want to draw a Kull."

"Well Ran was said to be twelve feet tall."

"Yeah, and people say that my father wiped out the entire Ra'zac race with one spell. Doesn't make it true."

"Oh, maybe I'll draw a Ra'zac instead, they're much scarier than Urgals!" Elaina chirped.

"Have I ever told you how disgustingly cheery you are?" Selena teased.

"And have I ever told you how glum you are? You need to smile more, Selena. Your face is to pretty to be wasted on scowls and frowns."

Selena laughed. "I'd trade my pretty face for a dragon any day of the week."

"What if next year I get chosen to be a rider?" Elaina quipped.

"Go fuck yourself, Elaina." She just laughed, and Selena begrudgingly chuckled along.

"Do you think if I-" Elaina started, but was interrupted when they heard the front door open.

"Is it your father?" The elven girl asked, craning her neck in an attempt to see past the living room door into the foyer.

"He's out with the wolf hunters training today."

"Evandar?"

"Definitely not him," Selena scoffed. "He lives with my sister-in-law."

They waited a few moments before hearing Eragon call out, "Selena? Are you home?"

The two girls looked at each other with confusion.

Eragon walked in a few moments later, with two men trailing behind him. Upon closer inspection, Selena realized that the first was barely a man. He seemed to be about the same age as her, with slicked back black hair and dark blue eyes. He was quite handsome, with a sculpted jawline and a broad, mesomorphic body. The second man was not so handsome, but had a certain grace about him. He had luscious silver hair, slicked back like his younger counterpart's. It ran halfway down his neck before it stopped, where it began to curl upward again. His hair continued down the sides of his face and formed an impressively thick moustache that seemed to create a window to his blue irises.

All of this was of no consequence to Selena, however. What struck her was the duo's matching outfits. The long coats, leather boots, and golden armbands of Calvin's wolf hunters. The gray one had many extra badges and medals adorned across the front of his coat, while the second's chest was bare.

These men were fully fledged, acting wolf hunters. Selena knew that strapped to each of their right thighs was a pistol identical in structure to her own. She assumed that they had left their swords at the door in the rack, as they were not across their backs.

"Aw hello Elaina. Didn't think I'd see you here." Eragon said.

Elaina stumbled to put her things down. "May good fortune rule over you, Master Eragon." The elven girl said with her hand twisted on her chest.

"Come now Elaina, you've been here for two months. You know things aren't so rigid."

"Three months, actually sir. And while I do, it is quite hard to break habit. Especially when someone as renowned as yourself walks into the room."

Selena scoffed sarcastically. "Why don't you just wipe his ass while you're at it?"

"Selena!" Her father said sternly as Elaina turned a bright shade of red. "Can't you see we have guests?"

"Oh sorry," she said not so sincerely. Selena stood up and approached the young one first, hand outstretched toward him. "I'm Selena. Good to meet you."

"Uh… William. You too." The boy had a firm grip.

"So you are the daughter I've been hearing so much about." The gray one spoke up.

"From whom, may I ask?" Selena responded, taking the man's hand. He smiled at her, revealing a set of sparkling white teeth that put Selena at ease.

"Well, multiple sources really. Some of the riders, you father, your brother," Selena suppressed a scoff, "and of course, Glanduil Fennson."

Selena raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know old Glandy still talked to his wolf hunter pals." For whatever reason, a tense silence followed.

After a moment, the gray hunter responded, "Clever girl. Not many of your generation know the uniform of the hunters."

Selena simply shrugged. "I am very interested in you guys. I even have a wolfsbane pistol."

The man chuckled. "Perhaps one day you will join your father's group then?"

"Hopefully…"

"Selena, William here was sparring with Evandar today. He gave him quite a run for his money." Her father chimed in.

For a second time, Selena was surprised. "Actually?" She turned to William, suddenly much more interested in him. The sudden attention made him uncomfortable.

"Uh well, not really. I mean, I could barely keep up at all he was just playing with me-"

"No, no that's very impressive. Evandar doesn't spar with anyone who isn't at least semi-close to his level."

"Aw, well… thank you, I guess." The boy rubbed the back of his head and blushed.

"Wait, are you two doing your project?" Eragon asked as he looked at their things laying across the room.

"Oh yeah," Selena said as she walked toward her books. "Getting ahead a little, you know?"

"Grove wolf; male; young, judging by the maw, no older than seven at this point. Pretty small in size, unless you're drawing a Kull?" Selena turned around. William was observing Elaina's painting. To Selena's amusement, she was redder than before.

"Oh, w-well yeah I-I-I was planning on it. Yes. It is going to be a Kull. When I'm done. Yes."

"Well, it's really good. But… you have the snout wrong."

Elaina blinked. "What?"

William pointed at the wolf's jaw. "Groves' snouts are usually wider and shorter, giving them a more sensitive sense of smell than say, a Sand wolf, but less strong."

"Oh..." Elaina sounded destroyed.

"Wait, why would their snouts be different?" Selena had walked up next to Elaina as William had been busy explaining.

"Well it's all about environment, really." He started. "See Sand wolves live in the Northern Plains. They really don't have many choices of prey, and the things they can hunt, such as Eartheaters or Sand Trolls, are few and far between. Therefore they have longer, skinnier snouts, which amplify their range but lessen their sensitivity. But Groves live in a diverse forest environment. Things brush against trees and bushes all the time, eliminating the need for the long-ranch sense of smell the Sand wolves need to track prey over the miles of dunes in the desert. However, Groves would get confused by all the different scents if their noses weren't so sensitive to different smells."

The two girls just stared. Despite the fact that he was a wolf hunter, his knowledge of werewolves dumbfounded them.

After they didn't talk for a moment, William chuckled and smiled. "You're basing this off of Grostum's painting, yeah?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Elaina took a break from gawking to say.

"It's infamous for having that exact inaccuracy, I'm afraid." The gray hunter said from the door.

"Oh no…" Elaina said, lowering her arms in defeat.

"Don't worry, Elaina, I won't take points off." Eragon chuckled.

"Doesn't matter dad, she's a perfectionist." Selena gestured toward Selena, who was still glumly looking at her painting. "See?"

"Well, I could… fix it, if you want." William said, looking to his mentor. The gray hunter nodded.

"It'll be a nice recap of manipulation of oils." He said.

They watched as William held his hand toward Elaina's painting. Muttering a constant stream of magically empowered words under his breath, he began to magically change the painting. Selena and Elaina watched with awe.

In no time the wolf's snout had shortened and widened, just as William had said.

"There we go." He said, seeming satisfied with his work.

"That was... Amazing!" Elaina exclaimed. "That must have taken so much energy!"

"What? No, I'm fine." William responded. And indeed he seemed just as normal as he had before.

"She's just never seen a single person do that much. The vast majority of magic users have miniscule pools of energy, barely even enough to cast a healing spell." Selena said as she continued studying, partially ignoring her father and his guests.

There were a couple of minutes where William was attempting to engage a flustered Elaina while Eragon and the gray hunter stood chatting at the door. Selena attempted to tone them out and continue studying, but she couldn't concentrate. She was too curious about this William. He was her age and a wolf hunter. What had he done to deserve the Trial of Penance? Only the sickest, most heinous criminals get it. It was said to be one of the most agonizing experiences ever conceived by man or magic. Plus, only about seven percent of those who are sentenced survive.

 _Doesn't matter._ Selena thought to herself. _I am strong. I can take it. Then I'll be stronger than any rider!_

"Selena we have to go." Selena looked up from her book. Her father's tone was suddenly stern and urgent.

"Is everything ok, dad?"

"Everything's fine, but we need to be leaving now." He and the gray man started to leave.

"Well, it was nice meeting you two. Listen… if you need any more help on your project or maybe… you want to spar sometime," he directed that comment at Selena, "I'm here for like, the next four months. I'll probably be busy, but… well I don't know, if you ever need anything-"

"You're staying here, William." The gray hunter said from the doorway.

William turned toward him, shocked. "Wait, what? Shango, What do you mean?"

"This is not a werewolf matter. You are to stay with these girls until we return."

"Yes, sir..." William sounded suspicious in his response.

"That is a direct order, William." Shango said, pointing to the boy as he left the room.

"Are we in danger?" Elaina's voice quivered as she asked.

"Not up here. Only dragons can fly up to the Prince. Well, and Lethrblaka."

"Shut up, Selena."

Selena rolled her eyes teasingly. "Calm down, Elaina. If it was something important, my dad would have told us. Come on we have work to do. William," she said to the confused wolf hunter. "Come here, I have some questions about this "Mor" virus that the Aryaes… made? I don't even know..."

* * *

"Not even one time?" William asked as they strolled toward the sparring yard.

"Evandar's never taken me seriously." Selena laughed. "He always just told me to fuck off. Never been able to actually see who's better. Though in all honesty it's probably him, he's been training with a sword much longer than me. Plus he's a rider."

William chuckled. "You have a really profane way of speaking, you know that?"

Selena just shrugged. "It's a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yeah! Do you realize how hard it is to say ' _Fuck,'"_ she spoke that word in the Common Tongue, "in the Ancient Language?"

"Well, it does take two words. 'Fuck.'"

"Exactly! You don't know how long it took me to be able to swear so naturally."

"Fuck." William repeated. "It's quite fun, actually."

"Aw, I got you hooked!" Selena playfully punched his arm. Slightly awkward silence followed.

"So… you've been to the yard before, right?" Selena asked as the entered the sparring yard.

"Not the main section, no. Whenever we train with your father's wolf hunters we go to their personal space." He pointed to the northwest where Eragon and his wolf hunters reserved a private space to train. "I've never been through here either. There's a back way."

Selena subdued the feelings of jealousy that instantly welled up inside of her. She had thoroughly enjoyed the three hours he, Elaina, and she had spent working on their wolf project. She did not wish to ruin this new found friendship over petty jealousy.

She walked towards one of the racks and got two sparring swords. "After this we can go shooting. I'm the best shot in Aryal, even better than my father. That's one area where I have competed with and beaten my brother. Plus we can compare our pistols, see how superior mine is." Selena ended and threw a sword to William.

"What are these?" He asked after catching it.

"Uh… Swords?"

"No these are planks, Selena." William dropped the sword and took one of the sheathed swords on his back in his hand. "This," he drew the sword, letting the sharp sound it made cut through the air, "is a sword."

"But… we can't spar with real swords." It was the first time Selena had seen a real sword in this context.

"'Course we can." William scoffed.

"But that's so dangerous-" Selena was interrupted by William.

"Dull the sword." Yet again his words were imbued with magic. He ran his two front fingers along the edges of the blade, leaving behind a faint dark purple glow for a fleeting moment. "Here." The young hunter said as he threw the sword to Selena.

"Whoa," She grunted as she caught the sword. "It's a tad heavier than the wooden ones."

"Just wait till you use a normal sword. These are heavily enchanted." William had taken out his second sword. "This one's even heavier than yours."

"Why's that?" Selena asked, waving hers through the air to get a good feel. It was quite awkward.

"Well, yours is steel. Mine's silver; it's a bit denser."

It took a few minutes for Selena to get even remotely comfortable with the sword. She would have liked to spend the rest of the day getting acquainted with it, but she realized that was unrealistic. "Alright," she said, getting into stance, "I'm ready."

"Alright then, let's go." Immediately after finishing William lunged toward Selena. He was quite fast, faster than Glanduil ever was. But the difference wasn't too significant, as Selena easily parried his stab. Then, before William had even regained his balance, she lazily twirled her body around and hit him in the neck. The weight of the sword made the motion a bit awkward, but the move still yielded the same effect. William shouted out in pain as he was thrown to the floor.

"Well, it's a little awkward, but I'm sure I can get used to it." Selena said as she walked over to him.

"Gods above, Selena." William massaged the quickly forming bruise on his neck as he got up. "I think you concussed me."

"Yeah, I do that sometimes. Almost killed my last instructor."

William gawked at her.

"What?" She asked.

"Selena you're… ridiculously powerful."

Selena blinked. "What? No, I'm just an elf."

"Selena I'm a wolf hunter. I am faster and stronger than almost every single rider in the Corps."

"Oh... I thought you were still getting there…"

"No," he smiled, "I'm fully fledged. Selena, I'm pretty sure you're faster than your brother."

"Really?" Selena asked. It had never occurred to her that she was so powerful. She had always just thought that her sparring partners were inept. Selena started thinking about it, and she realized that she had never tested her abilities against a rider. But if what William said was true, she was already far stronger and faster than all but the most powerful riders in the Corps.

A smile started to spread across her face. _I'm as powerful as a wolf hunter! And I'm not even a rider! Maybe that's why I was never chosen. If I were to become a rider I'd be… unstoppable!_

"Selena!" She turned toward the beckoning. He father was standing with Shango at the entrance to the yard. For the first time in her life, it seemed to Selena that her father was sad.

She ran to him. Whatever reason he had to talk to her, it seemed urgent.

"Yeah, dad?" she asked when she got there.

"Come here, I need to talk to you." They walked out of the yard toward where Saphira was sitting. To Selena's relief, the massive blue dragon seemed to be acting normally. She lounged on the ground, cleaning her talons and snorting threateningly at any passing folk who strayed too close.

"Hey, Saphira." Selena noticed that her voice seemed scared.

 _Greetings, little dove. I would converse with, but your father has news._

"Selena." She turned to Eragon. Upon closer inspection, Selena confirmed that no other emotion but sadness showed in his eyes.

"Dad, what's the matter?" she asked, moving closer to him.

"King Calvin has passed away."

"What?" Selena was dumbfounded. She loved the king. He was a jovial and sweet man. Selena had called him "Uncle Calvin" for as long as she remembered.

"When? H-how?"

Before he responded, Selena noticed a hint of hesitation in her father's eyes. It was extremely fast, and only those who knew Eragon as she did could've possibly caught it. "We don't know. But it ripped right through him, whatever it was. He went to bed happy and healthy last night, and awoke this morning with what seemed like a flu. In three hours he was gone."

Selena stared into her father's eyes. "How old was he?"

"Fifty-three." Selena put her hand against her forehead. He was gone. Just like that.

"He… he was family. Uncle Calvin…" She hugged her father.

"I know, darling. Your mother is beside herself."

"When is the funeral?" Selena asked, burying her face into her father's chest.

"It's in a week, we won't be able to make it. But we are leaving for the capital tomorrow." Selena pulled back from him.

"All of us? Even me?"

"Yes." Selena had never been outside of Aryal. Had it been a different situation, she would have been excited.

"I assume we're going for Jonathan's coronation?"

"Yes, my love." Jonathan was the elf-human hybrid son of Calvin. He was only seventeen. Selena had never personally met him, but she had heard that he was a kind and strong person.

She pulled away from her father. "How long will the trip take?"

"We won't be able to fly." Eragon said. "We're going in a convoy, with a couple of the masters of the Corps. We'll travel down to the Pond, and follow the Narr from there to Shelush. That'll take about two months. From there we'll ride to Yaen, which will take about two weeks, and then we'll travel for another month to Yerushalmi. We'll be in the capital for about a week and a half before the coronation."

Selena nodded, all traces of the good mood she had previously been in gone. "Are we going back to the house? I would like to pack."

"We're going now, my love."

"Wait, let me go say goodbye to William." Selena started to move past her father, but he put his arm out to stop her.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Selena." She looked at Eragon with confusion. Then she looked over at Shango and William, and it made sense.

They were embraced and William was facing Selena and her father. Even from her position, she could see the constant stream of tears the flowed from William's eyes as he wept for his late King.


	9. The Red King

Eragon watched the sun slowly fall behind the Yakirian Sea as the convoy set up camp. It reflected off the water's surface, replacing the half that fell below the water's edge with a pale visage. He had learned to appreciate the natural beauties of the world in his extremely extended age. Around Eragon the hectic sounds of life on the road filled the air, but he had learned to tone them out long ago.

"Why do you gaze upon the water so?" her voice rang out distinctly. "Perhaps you find it beautiful?" she came up behind him and snaked her hands under his arms, wrapping them around his chest and embracing him from behind. "Have you forgotten your own wife?"

Eragon turned around to a smiling Arya. "Never," he embraced her, "ever," he moved his face closer to hers, "in a million," closer, "million," their lips were less than an inch apart, "years." He then kissed her, long and sensually. When they pulled apart he looked into her eyes. "After all, I did name a city after you." Arya burst out into rich, beautiful laughter. "It'd be a little hard."

They started swaying there, in front of their tent. Slowly they started dancing, and likewise starting shifting their position. In no time their hands were clasped together, with Eragon's left on her waist and Arya's right on his shoulder. Seamlessly, they danced to an imaginary tune that they shared between their minds. People started staring.

"When was the last time we danced?" Arya asked, her head resting against his chest.

Eragon thought for a moment. "Must be at least a century at this point." He felt her sigh against him. A few moments of silence enveloped them as they swayed.

"My love…" Arya's toned had shifted to one of hesitation. She seemed to be dreading the conversation she planned on initiating. Of course, Eragon already knew what it was about.

"It is prophesied, Arya."

"She is not a prophet!" Arya replied, pulling away from him suddenly and angrily. Eragon attempted to hold onto her but to no avail.

"Arya please-"

"No Eragon. Enough is enough!" He sighed in sadness. It always came down to this. She never gave up.

"My love, there is nothing to be done!" He said urgently.

"Of course there is!"

"Like what?"

"Well, you can stop believing in the false prophecies of a hag!"

Eragon raised his eyebrow at her. "Name calling is not going to change my mind, Arya."

Ignoring him, she continued. "How do you even know she's alive? It's been nine hundred years since you saw her last!"

"There is not a doubt in my mind that Angela is alive and well, wherever she is, with Solembum trailing behind her."

"Eragon, this is insanity." Arya exclaimed as she stormed past him into their tent.

"What reason do I have for returning?" Eragon's voice rose. He was starting to get irritated.

She popped her head out of the tent. "What reason? You have an obligation-"

"I have an obligation to my people. I'm a king. Blah blah blah. I've already nullified that point a hundred times."

Arya angrily stared at Eragon for a moment before exiting the tent again and coming up close to his face. "You have an obligation to me."

Eragon narrowed his eye. This was a new argument.

"I need… a husband, Eragon." she turned around and took a step toward the tent. "It gets so lonely…" She stood there for a few moments looking at the tent flap. Eragon moved forward and wrapped his arms around his wife.

"Well, I am getting old…" he said as he caressed her.

"Please, my love. Just consider it, at the very least." Before Eragon could respond a disturbance occurred at the Southern gate. Both Eragon and Arya's sensitive ears picked it up.

Instantly they were both in stride, running next to each other toward the gate. As they approached, Saphira informed Eragon that she would arrive in less than five minutes.

However, he soon called her off. Standing in front of the gate was a man atop a horse, surrounded on all sides by guards brandishing bayoneted-muskets. His hands were up. The rider was handsome, with a full beard and a head of flowing, dark brown hair. Despite his lopsided smile and raised eyebrow, pain and sadness echoed in his once fearsome grey eyes.

"Ah good," one of the guards said as he saw Eragon and Arya and approached them. The two white stripes on his blue armband indicated that he was the officer in charge of guarding the gate. "Master Eragon, your grace," he bowed to Arya, "This man is attempting to force his way into the camp!"

"I would disagree. And I think you men should count yourselves lucky that he didn't indeed force his way in."

"Sir?" The man asked, as Eragon strolled past him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, making trouble, as usual". The man's smile widened when he heard Eragon.

"I can't help it. It's in my nature." He jumped off his horse much to the chagrin of the guards, who still had their rifles trained at him.

"Oh, come off it boys." Eragon waved his hand aside. The guards reluctantly backed off.

Eragon and the rider stood face to face. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Then they embraced.

"It's been too long, brother." Eragon said mid hug.

"Ten years is long now? My god, you are turning into a crazy old man." The rider replied.

"Still one for sentiment, I see." Eragon pulled away from the man partially, keeping his hand on his shoulder. "How are you, Murtagh?"

"Well, the man I was supposed to guard with my life died mysteriously and under my nose, so… not too good."

"I'm sorry, brother. Why are you out here?"

Murtagh averted his gaze. "The Kingsguard has placed me under temporary suspension. One would think that being the captain for almost a century would win one some wiggle room for these kind of things."

"Murtagh…" Eragon said. "You didn't answer my question."

His brother kept his gaze to the ground. "I was with her."

"Murtagh…"

"I know what I'm doing, Eragon." He looked up at Eragon. "I'm still the Red King."

"Murtagh-"  
"Please Eragon. Just let me have this."

"She's evil, brother."

Murtagh laughed. "So is the world, Eragon. It's cruel, and evil, and cold. And I have no place in it-"

"Don't say that-"

"I can't even protect my king, for gods' sake!" The looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Despite their conversation understanding and love was shared between them.

"I may not be you Eragon," Murtagh started.

"Stop it, Murtagh-"

"But I am still the Red King, damnit! I am powerful, you know that. I can handle Eros. Please, just trust me."

Eragon looked into his brother's eyes for a moment before responding. "I never stopped." He clapped Murtagh's shoulder. "'Through thickest blood,'"

"'Through coldest water,'" Murtagh continued.

"The kings,"

"Shall always prevail." They finished the phrase together, and embraced for a second time. Then Murtagh pulled away.

"Arya, my queen. You are as beautiful as ever!" Murtagh put his hand in the air and walked toward Arya.

She smiled and embraced him. "How are you, Murtagh?"

"Ashamed and disgraced! But, more importantly, sober!" He turned to Eragon. "Who do I have to kill to get a whiskey around here, eh?"

"Let's go to the chefs. They usually have something good." The brothers threw their arms around each other's shoulders and walked toward the dining pavilion.

Moments later the dragon Firnen landed softly next to his rider. Unlike his mate Saphira, he preferred soft landings, not wanting to hurt anyone in the immediate area buy creating a miniature earthquake.

 _Greetings, Pinewood._ His deep voice soothed Arya.

 _How was the hunt?_

Firnen sat down where he was and held his head up high. He never let anyone see him comfortable. _Saphira becomes more magnificent and fierce with each passing day, and I continue to fall short._

 _Now you know how I feel, my love._ Arya sighed.

 _Indeed I do, Pinewood. I remember how your heart secretly beat with excitement whenever he contacted you through the mirror._

 _He would always come to me for advice. Now it is reversed. His wisdom and power have grown exponentially._ Suddenly Arya felt self-conscious. _Damn it. This always happens._ She leaned against Firnen and closed her eyes. He bent his massive head down and lovingly nudged her.

 _Both of our partners exceed us in every way possible. And yet they are still completely ours._ _There is no need to fear, little Pinewood. I sense your fears, but the Ancient Language is binding. If there was someone else, you would know. His name would reveal it._

 _Would it?_ Arya asked. Firnen snorted in response.

 _How could Eragon manipulate his true name in such a way? How could he lie to you? The Ancient Language makes it impossible._

 _Firnen, my love, you are naive._ Arya felt his hurt and anger for a moment before he blocked it from her mind.

 _And you are paranoid, Pinewood._

 _You have seen the things he can do, Firnen. Feats so grand it shakes the very fabric from which magic is created! You know he has spent his whole life studying the Name. Who knows what secrets he could have discovered? Who knows what they're keeping from us?_

 _Arya-_

 _He's been becoming more and more distant ever since the creation of that stupid group of wolf hunters! And I can't even ask Evandar about it because they've all sworn oaths of secrecy!_

Arya. The use of her real name jolted Arya back into reality. Her hand was to her forehead and she was leaning against Firnen. Around her the guards of the camp started switching shifts. The sky was dimly light from the sinking sun.

 _May we fly today Firnen?_

 _Of course, Pinewood._

* * *

Selena was in the makeshift sparring yard, where she had spent the majority of her time on the road. On this particular day she was especially concentrated for no apparent reason. Ignoring the grunts and yells around her, as well as the gunshots that periodically went off from the not-so-far-away range, she danced with an imaginary partner. In her mind a human man stood in front of her, imbued with the speed and strength of a werewolf. She could barely keep up with him. And yet still she parried and dodged every swing and stab the werewolf threw at her.

It was odd for Selena to have no sparring partner. Even on the road she usually had somebody to keep her sharp. Glanduil had fallen ill and was in no condition to travel, so she had to improvise. For the most part Selena had two sparring partners, the first of whom being rather surprising. Elaina had stunned Selena their first day on the road when she had entered the sparring yard with her enchanted rapier. Selena was pleased to find that she was extremely proficient with the skinny little sword, and had proven to be a more than sufficient partner. It was interesting for Selena to fight someone wielding a rapier. The fighting style was much different. Elaina was fast and quick, constantly poking Selena despite her superior speed.

Selena's second partner was the rider Charlotte, also known as "the Living Flame". She was Eragon's seventh student and one of the two humans in his group of wolf hunters. Selena admired her greatly. The rivalry between her and Evandar was known throughout the land. Both were two of the most powerful riders in the Crops, and commanded their own respective segment of the Corps. Evandar was the Lord Commander of the Blades of the Blue King. The Blades were the elite group of riders in the Corps that served Eragon directly as a secret service of sorts. Many of the people of Aryal criticized the fact the Eragon basically had an army comprised of the Crops' most powerful riders at his command. Even some of the masters in the Corps had raised complaints, saying that the institution of the Blades is a threat to the structure of the Corps and the city of Aryal as a whole.

Charlotte commanded a less controversial group of riders. The Guard was the largest of the three branches of the Corps. Made up of relatively young, new riders, the Guard held about ninety percent of the one thousand riders in the Corps. Those of the Guard patrolled the lands of Yakir and Alagaesia, keeping the peace and assisting the populace in any way possible. Charlotte herself was actually the first ever Blade, but after some time began taking apprentices. She eventually ran for and became a consul for Aryal, serving alongside the urgal Zuzbur. She had devoted her life to acquiring equality in all things for human women in Yakir, who were historically discriminated against.

Charlotte was the first rider that ever took Selena seriously. Selena had never sparred with a fully-fledged rider before, and she was more than happy that she could keep up with Charlotte. It was difficult though. Extremely difficult. Fighting Charlotte was the first time Selena had ever been legitimately challenged. This was because on top of being stronger and faster than Selena, an advantage not many possess, Charlotte's preferred weapon was her red twinblade Rend.

The twinblade was a rare and impractical weapon for most. It was heavy and awkward and hard to store. No other weapon took as many years to master as the twinblade. Nor was any other weapon as difficult to make. However, those few who could masterfully wield one were the most dangerous combatants in the land. Once one mastered the appropriate forms and techniques required to properly use a twinblade, it was almost impossible for any other foe to match the aggressive offense that the weapon offered. Moreover, a twinblade's defensive capabilities are just as valuable. Twinblades are almost as large as a man. They covered a large amount of area, and many foes found it difficult to catch a hole in a wielder's defense.

And so the first couple of times Selena sparred with Charlotte, who held nothing back, she was destroyed. However, as she got used to Charlotte's moves, and the style with which the twinblade is wielded, she started being able to hold her own. Selena even won a few of their matches. Charlotte was extremely impressed, saying that she had never met someone as powerful as her who wasn't a rider.

As Selena parried her imaginary foe, a familiar voice addressed her. "It's a fulfilling thing, sparring by yourself. You always face the world's greatest swordsman, and yet every time you prevail."

Selena's head whipped around as fast as a bullet, and an ear to ear grin spread across her face. "Uncle Murtagh!" Murtagh smiled and put his hands out as she ran over and embraced him.

"Look at you Selena," he said as they parted. "You are practically a grown woman! For gods' sake, you were only to my hip the last time I saw you!"

Selena laughed. "Yeah well, nine year olds usually grow up. Especially in ten years."

"That must feel like so long to you." Murtagh said with something akin to a sense of wonder.

"Well, it is half of my life." Selena responded with a shrug.

"A mere moment of ours, however." Said her father from behind Murtagh. The uncle and niece fully broke apart so that Selena could talk to Eragon.

"Howzit, dad?" She smiled and put her hand on her hip, smelling the liquor on both of their breaths.

"I must say I feel quite embarrassed." His words were slightly slurred. As he walked toward Selena he stumbled slightly. "It seems my big brother can once again outdrink me."

Murtagh laughed at his drunk brother. "You've gone soft in your old age, Eragon. Back when he was alive, Calvin and I drank together every night! I am all but immune to the effects of alcohol! Huzzah!" He ended his sentence with a little hiccup. Selena chuckled at the irony of his statement.

"Which is why you challenged me in the first place, I imagine." Eragon replied, attempting to steady himself for a moment and then conceding and letting his body sway drunkenly.

"Well we both know I stand no chance against you sober. After all, you've studied the Name much more than I-"

"Shhhhh, shut Murtagh!" Eragon cut him off. "You can't just go spewing details like that in public!" Murtagh simply laughed in response, clutching his belly with his hands.

Suddenly curious, Selena started to push. "Wait, what's the Name?"

"Damn it, Murtagh, see what you've done?" Her father seemed as angry as a drunk man could be. Murtagh simply continued laughing. "If you must know," Eragon said matter of factly, "when your idiot uncle says 'that Name,' he is referring to the Name of the Ancient Language, a closely guarded secret."

Selena rolled her eyes. "You could've just said you didn't want to tell me, dad."

"I am being completely honest, Selena!" Eragon acted offended. Selena simply scoffed.

"Wait," she said, realizing something.

"What is it, Monkey?" Murtagh asked as he drew his red blade Zar'roc.

"You guys are going to spar?" Even as she uttered it she knew it to be true, as a sizeable crowd had already gathered to witness the spectacle.

"Yes, dear." Her father said. Selena turned around and was surprised to see her father shirtless and stretching.

"Dad, what are you doing?" She asked, mortified.

"Hmm?"

"You're shirtless!"

"Well, aren't you perceptive, little Monkey." Murtagh said from behind her.

"Selena, darling, go stand with your mother." Her father said, waving his hand to his right. Selena turned and lo and behold, at the front of the crowd, her mother, brother, Hope, and Elaina stood watching.

"Mom!" Selena walked over to her.

"Yes, Selena?"

"What do you mean 'Yes, Selena'? Tell dad to put a shirt on!"

"Father doesn't spar with a shirt on, little sister." Evandar said in his usual monotone.

"Why not?"

"It's probably too constricting." Elaina said. Selena noticed that Elaina seemed very interested in her father. She was looking at him with a suspicious amount of concentration. However, before Selena could address the problem her mother interjected.

"You've never seen your father spar before, have you?" She asked.

"What?" Selena was so overwhelmed by everything that was going on that all she could do was stand there and be flustered.

"Of course she hasn't." Evandar answered. "The only people who can compete with father are you and uncle. The last time he crossed blades with either of you was well over twenty years ago."

"Pay attention then, Selena. This is something I know you'll like." Her mother gestured to the two men.

"Look at our crowd, Eragon! It's the Burning Plains all over again!" Murtagh had to yell, as the crowd had become too large and loud for normal voices to be heard.

"Not at all, brother. You won at the burning plains!" An extremely audible "ooh" emanated from the crowd.

Murtagh scoffed and pointed Zar'roc at Eragon. "Draw your sword, heathen!"

Selena watched as her father's lip curled and he placed his right hand on Brisingr, his rider's sword. As he did a hush fell over the crowd. Eragon slowly started to unsheathe the blade, letting the sharp sound drag out for a couple of moments. He finished with a sharp "shink" and thrust the blue blade into the air for all to admire. Selena realized that she had never actually seen her father's famous sword before. It was magnificent. She had seen many a rider's sword in her short time, and each was masterfully crafted and beautiful. But Eragon's was in a totally separate league. The sword was a beautiful shade of light blue, the same as the scales on Saphira's neck. It's curved cross-guard was followed by a blade decreasing in width, making it good for slicing and stabbing. The blade was longer than usual, with a longer hilt to compensate. One as learned in swords as Selena could see that this was a sword made for all situations. The final facet of the blade that Selena noticed was the beautiful blue sapphire held in the pommel, which she knew held a vast amount of magical energy stored there by Eragon over the years.

"Still quite the showman, I see." Murtagh said with a hiccup. Eragon responded by swinging Brisingr down to his side and then commencing in an intricate sword dance of whirls and spins, twirling the blade through the air and enchanting the crowd. Selena admitted to herself that despite knowing of her father's renown as a swordsman she was still shocked at his perfect form and obvious mastery of the craft.  
Eragon ended his elaborate showboating by mimicking Murtagh and pointing Brisingr at him. Murtagh, who had relaxed to let his brother finish, opened his mouth and began to speak. However, before he could even complete his first word, Eragon's magically amplified voice coursed through the yard. "Fire." Instantly his blade burst into blue flames. This little stunt elicited such a huge reaction from the audience that Selena turned around to gawk at the people whom she knew to be usually calm and collected. She had a feeling this sparring match was going to be much more monumental than she had originally thought.

Her uncle and father began circling each other, which quickly quieted the crowd down. Selena watched both men closely, studying their forms and movements. They were flawless. She could see them concentrating, waiting for the other to slip up in the slightest way. Foot over foot they circled each other, keeping their swords raised and their eyes locked. For minutes Eragon and Murtagh stayed in this trance. Any trace of their previous drunkenness was totally gone.

And then Murtagh stumbled. If you could even call it that. It was fast and small, the result of an unevenness in the ground that Murtagh had not yet encountered. A fraction of a second his error lasted, but that was all Eragon needed. The moment the stumble happened a bang like a hundred powder kegs exploding emanated from Murtagh. A forceful gust of wind hit the crowd and caused Selena to stumble.

She blinked. Both men had somehow completely changed positions, despite not having physically moved at all. They had just teleported. Eragon was behind Murtagh, close to the edge of the crowd, with his flaming sword held out to his right. Murtagh was in the same place as he had previously been in, but he had both hands on Zar'roc pointed down and right to the ground. The blade was steaming. Before Selena could ask what exactly had happened the fight began.

Both men disappeared, and the same loud, cacophonous sound began coming from the makeshift sparring ring. Sudden hard wind mixed with the high decibel level of the sound, which Selena mentally compared to very loud, constant banging, began pushing against the crowd. The sound and the wind would not stop. As a test Selena screamed as loud as she could, and found that she could only hear the banging.

It took Selena a couple of seconds to comprehend what was happening. Eragon and Murtagh moved so fast that they were invisible to the naked eye. It was physically impossible for Selena's brain to process the speed at which they were moving, so she saw nothing. The two men were so strong that every blow that landed created an incredibly loud noise and strong gust of wind. The wind and noise only seemed so constant because their swords were meeting multiple times every second. It was absolutely incredible.

The match did not last for too long. A few minutes after the initial bang the noise and sound ended just as abruptly as it had begun. The settling dust revealed a panting Murtagh on the ground and a calm Eragon holding the tip of his doused sword to his brother's throat. Unlike Murtagh, Eragon was breathing just as evenly as he usually did. Cheers erupted from the crowd as Eragon helped Murtagh up, both smiling and hugging one another.


	10. The Royal Palace

"No, no, no see that's what I'm saying!" William frantically held his hands out in front of him.

"What? That it's ok to call Kyokinians 'squinty-eyes?' Do you truly not see the problem there?" Elaina responded.

"Alright, I'll concede that that is a just blatant caricature. But why should I censor myself to prevent offending someone else? It's madness, why can't they just get over it?"

"By the Name, William! How many times must explain to you that all you have to do is refer to them by their actual nationality and not some derogatory term to begin creating a friendly relationship? Yes, they can get over it but why put them in that position anyway? You have to consider other people's feelings before you speak."

"Aha! I've found a flaw in your logic!" William exclaimed, pointing his finger in the air dramatically.

Elaina chuckled. "Oh really? And what is that?"

"Kyokinians are not people! Ha!" William joked.

Elaina let out a furious giggle and playfully slapped William's arm. "William!" She squeaked. He simply responded with a shrug. "What about you, Selena? Want to contribute?" Elaina turned around to Selena, who was riding her horse behind the two love birds and trying not to murder them.

"I think that in your stupid babbling you two are focusing too much on Yakirians' racism and forgetting that Kyokinians are the most racist people on the planet." She responded shortly.

"You taken a nap today, Selena?" William teased. Selena replied with a smile and a middle finger.

"I don't think she'll need one, we've arrived!" Elaina chirped.

Selena looked up. Their part of the convoy had just exited the forest path and could now fully see the capital city of Yerushalmi. It was the second largest city in Yakir, the first being Aryal, and served as the country's political center. The royal palace and the parliament were within Yerushalmi's walls, along with a couple hundred thousand residents. Despite her excitement, Selena was nevertheless underwhelmed. The city's stone walls were much lower and dirtier than Aryal's. It was built for a siege, with buildings getting progressively taller the farther they went into the city. In contrast to Aryal's more aesthetic design it was something of an eyesore. Due to Yerushalmi's more or less flat position the Royal Palace was in the center, as opposed to Aryal's Blue Palace being in the back of the city against the mountain. A moat ran around the capital's walls, and the only way in was through four seperate drawbridges that usually stood open. The underwhelming piece de resistance of the city's centuries-behind design were the pathetic looking guard towers that seemed to be lazily and randomly dispersed along the wall. It was ugly and uninviting, the polar opposite of Aryal. Selena wondered if this was how all the other cities of Yakir looked.

"You ever met the prince, William?" Selena was in a substantially better mood than she had been three minutes ago.

"I've met Prince Jonathan a few times actually. He's strong and courageous-"

"Yeah, I've heard the spiel big boy. Your dad's pounded it into me a million times already." Selena's satisfaction increased when she saw the blood rush to William's face. She knew he hated the nickname she had made for Shango.

"By the way Selena, how's your common?" Elaina asked with a smile.

"Dad says that I am a natural." She responded in common, ending with a little bow.

"Gods, your accent is so thick." William teased.

"Excuse me, she didn't even know how to say 'hello' in common three months ago." Elaina came to her friend's defense.

"Yes, how long did it take you to become fluent in the Ancient Language, William? Three years, or was it four?" Selena said, again in common to gloat. William rolled his eyes and flicked her off, to her great satisfaction.

"I hear the Prince is a hybrid. Doesn't that mean he'll live forever?" Selena changed the subject back to Jonathan.

William narrowed his eyes at her briefly before responding. "Yes, but it was decided long ago that he would serve the land a maximum of eighty years, after which he will step down and let his successor take his place."

"Ooh, he's a hybrid? Selena, maybe we've found you a boy!" Elaina giggled excitedly.

"Why? Cause I'm also mixed? So are you, Elaina. Maybe we should marry you off to him. Then I won't have to contain vomit every time you talk."

"Hardy har, Selena. You know sometimes you can just be plain mean."

"Oh, shut up bitch, you love me." Selena smiled as they passed through the gates of the city.

Yerushalmi was, in all accounts, disappointing for Selena. Coming from the crisp air and clean people of Aryal shocked Selena into the realization that she was truly blessed to live in such an amazing city. She had known this from an early age, but only truly came to appreciate it there in the capital. Yerushalmi's poverty rate was much higher than Aryal's, so much so that it was visually apparent. Beggars and vagabonds roamed the street searching for any sign of sustenance they could find on the ground. Cats and dogs with skin pulled taut against their ribs fought over rotten meat thrown out by the failing butcher. Sickly women clutched their babes close to their breasts, coughing up blood and asking any passerby if he could spare a yarren or two. Selena could see the disdain the common folk held for people of high society such as her based on the sneers and dirty looks that were thrown their way. One man even spat.

The convoy passed through multiple markets and a square on their way to the palace. While the ones deeper into the city were quite nice, with one man even giving Elaina a free apple, the ones on the outskirts of the city were abysmal. Meat stands with swarms of flies overhead and fruit carts with rotting tomatoes and cabbages that reeked so badly Elaina almost threw up created a repulsive atmosphere; Selena even saw multiple thieves in the act.

Needless to say, she was extremely relieved when they finally reached the Royal Palace. Just like everything else in the city, the palace was subpar compared to its Aryalian counterpart. The Blue Palace was a marvel of architecture. Huge and magnificent, it would have towered over every other building in Yerushalmi. Some of Selena's fondest childhood memories were of her time training with her father at dawn and seeing the morning sun reflect of the Palace's sapphire walls and spires. She remembered how Saphira would fly into the city to pick them up for lunch and perform loops and twirls on their way to the Prince.

The Royal Palace was grand in its own right. It was much more magnificent than any of the other buildings in the city, which was actually saying alot considering some of the ones Selena had seen as they had moved closer and closer to the center Yerushalmi. It was circular, like the rest of the city. There were three rings that served as the stories of the building, with a tall tower in the middle. At the top of the tower was the King's personal study, which he used a magically propelled elevator to access. Many of the grey stones toward the higher rings had gone green with mold as they were impossible to get to and clean. It looked much more like a keep than a Palace which Selena had learned, upon inquiring of her father, was because it was built to withstand a siege. She assumed the inside was dark and musky like any other keep, but was thoroughly surprised when they entered a sunlit hall decorated with pictures of monarchs and smelling delightfully of jasmine. Selena assumed magic was behind all the natural light that was coming through the windows as she had not seen them or any on the outside.

She was escorted to her room by a frail, old butler who informed her that dinner with the Prince was just before dusk in the main Great Hall. He spoke fast and in the common language, so Selena had to ask him to repeat himself a few times. After finally successfully relaying directions to her he bowed low and walked away with a surprising amount of grace. Upon entering her room Selena was instantly greeted by three young girls clad in white dresses. Sarah, Fey, and Sarit were their names, and they were apparently her personal handmaidens during her stay. They were disgustingly friendly and Selena dismissed them quickly, telling them that she was fine by herself, to which they giggled and complemented her accent. They then curtsied and hurriedly waddled out of the room. Selena had a feeling that they would be checking in on her frequently to assure that she was as comfortable as possible, and had to restrain the urge to gag at the thought.

The room itself was large and comfortable, and Selena couldn't complain. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to appreciate it. After three months on the road Selena longed for a nice, soft bed to throw herself onto. However, to her great annoyance three dresses impeded her embrace with the soft mattress. At first she disregarded them as she had brought her own, but as she lifted the red one off the bed she saw that it was made to show much more skin than any of hers did. Despite her fatigue, Selena walked over to the large, ornate mirror by the bathroom with the dress. She peeled her tunic off and removed her undergarments. Her body was sticky and she needed a bath, but her curiosity took priority. She slid into the dress comfortably, and only momentarily pondered how they had gotten all her measurements correct. The dress was form fitting, accentuating her robust figure and making her feel, for the first time in her life, sexy. She smiled at herself. Selena had never understood many women's obsession with looking as perfect as they could. It seemed to Selena that their only goal was to capture the attention and awe of men. But standing in front of that mirror in her new red dress, Selena realized how good it made her as a woman feel to be beautiful. She smiled and admired herself for a few more moments before her regular mindset returned to her and she removed the dress to clean herself off.

After her hour-long bath, complete with bubbles and lavender scented candles, she put on new undergarments, fell into her cloud of a bed, and fell asleep almost instantly.

!

Selena casually walked down a grand corridor in the Royal Palace. The old butler's directions were clear and simple, and she was obviously placed in room that was close to the Great Hall. Despite that she was still about thirty minutes late. Her snooze turned full on REM sleep was abruptly interrupted by her handmaidens frantically running around the room screeching that dinner would start in twenty minutes. Annoyed, she had kicked them out under the threat of violence and proceeded to take her time putting on her new red dress and freshening up. As she walked to the Great Hall she smiled hello to quite a few people. They were all servants of the castle, as all the royal relatives and guests were already eating. The double takes and whispers of the men she passed flattered her and only boosted her confidence. It made her wonder what the reaction would be when she walked into the Great Hall so late. No doubt everyone's eyes would be on her. Would they go silent? Would her beauty stun them into awe? Selena chuckled to herself. The thought was ridiculous.

So, one can only imagine her surprise when that exact situation transpired. Selena turned a corner and saw a set of massive doors, twenty feet tall at least. Imprinted upon their golden surface was the Scornhold family crest, a regal looking eagle looking down at his imaginary prey. Under it were the Scornhold words, "To Rule is to Soar." This made Selena think of her own family words, "Born of Fire." She had always seen such things like sigils and words as dramatic and unnecessary, but every great family in Yakir had them. When Aryal officially joined Yakir, Charles Scornhold had knighted her father and given them their crest. It depicted a blue dragon wrestling down a smaller, black one. This had always irked Selena as the Black King's dragon, Shruikan, had actually been much larger than Saphira.

As she approached, the servants operating the doors bowed to her. She smiled back and entered the room as they pushed them open. All noise in the room had stopped, and Selena stood in the Great Hall with all eyes on her. Stretched out in front of her was a relatively large room that glowed with a golden light that emanated from the chandeliers above. The interior was identical to the rest of the castle, with ornate designs on the walls and a portrait here and there. The table was long and wide, made of polished archtree wood, just like her pistol.

She smiled at the room in general, delighted that she had made such a dramatic entrance. After a moment, the talking and noises of dinner resumed, and Selena saw her father gesturing to her. He sat close to the head of the table, where Prince Jonathan should have been sitting. To the left of his empty seat lay another equally as empty, and to the right sat the rider Kisgreg laughing jovially and talking to Charlotte, who sat next to him. As Selena walked closer to her family she saw that her father was gesturing to the empty seat next to the head, meaning that she was assigned to sit next to the prince. She scoffed at the idea and rolled her eyes. There was obvious trickery afoot and it irked her.

"Hey guys." Selena said as she sat down. Her mother smiled at her.

"I see you found the dresses I had made for you. How do you like them?"

Selena raised her brows in surprise. "This was you, Mom?" Arya nodded. "But they're so… scandalous. I'd never have thought you would like me wearing something like this."

"Not at all, dear. You are the princess of the elven people. You should be scandalous."

"For the record," her father bumped in, "I was avidly against it." Selena laughed and thanked a servant as she put some food onto her plate. She picked up her goblet to find that it had already been filled with some delicious looking wine. Selena took a sip and let the dry liquid run down her throat, before picking up her knife and fork and getting started on the meat that had been placed in front of her. There she sat for a bit, isolated from everyone and eating her food. Her only prospective conversational partner was her father, who was either eating or talking to Kisgreg from across the table. Selena didn't necessarily mind the isolation. She preferred to be aloof anyway.

It was well after Selena had finished her food that the doors opened a second time. Again, the room went silent, but for a different reason. A crier walked in, accompanied by trumpets. He cleared his throat and announced, "Please begin moving to the ballroom!"

"There's a ball?" Selena asked her father as they got up to go.

He smiled manically. "Oh, I didn't tell you?"

"I hate balls."

"Come now, Selena, don't be a stick in the mud."

"Yes dear," her mother added, "It will be fun. Besides, you don't have a choice."

"I always have a choice." Selena responded defiantly.

"Always so rebellious, little sister." Evander said with a smug smile. Selena narrowed her eyes at him and then looked at Hope who was at his arm.

'What do you see in him?' She mouthed. Hope simply shrugged and laughed, which always made Selena smile.

The ballroom was larger than the Great Hall, and was already packed by the time they arrived. There was a square dance floor in the center of the room, with a band already playing in the right-hand corner. A massive staircase in the back led up to a balcony that went around the entire room.

Selena spotted William and Elaina happily dancing in each other's arms on the other side of the room, and opted to let them enjoy themselves rather than butting in. She had noticed that they spent much more time together than with her, which she didn't mind at the least. If it was for romantic reasons Selena was happy for her friends.

There were many more people at the ball than there were at dinner. Selena even spotted delegates from the various Beastmen tribes. Namely, she saw a couple of Aryaes and Goliaths. Only three of the Elephant men had arrived, which of course made sense. They were colossal in stature, and towered over everyone in the room, with the smallest of the three reaching at least twelve feet in height. Selena realized how appropriate the name "Goliath" was for these mastodonian juggernauts.

She supposed it was a relief to the kingdom that these massive beings preferred the path of kindness and wisdom over the more Burokish way of war and plunder. Standing there observing the Beastmen, Selena wondered if there were any Burok-El in attendance, as they had a much better relationship with the kingdom than their Burok-Ai brethren that roamed around the forests near Yerushalmi. Her father had always told her the Bull men of the North were much more passive than those of the South. As she was standing there lost in thought, her uncle approached her from behind.

"How're you doing, little Monkey?" He slurred.

Selena chuckled. "I'm sober, unlike you."

"Do not make light of my situation, child! According to your mother I am a 'raging alcoholic!'" He said with sarcastic finger quotes. As funny as it was, Selena could not help but pity her poor uncle. His life had been so horrible, and he managed to hide it all behind alcohol and a good-humored facade. Only those close to him could see through it to the immense amount of anguish that whirled inside.

"Tell me uncle, do you know much about the Aryaes? I've always wanted to learn about them."

"Don't they offer a class at the academy?" Murtaugh leaned his arm on Selena's shoulder.

"They do, but it conflicted with the werewolf studies class I'm taking."

"Aw, I see." Her uncle began. "Well, they live in the Negbar Plains, near Eir." He stopped leaning on her and straightened up. "Theirs is a culture of pride and discipline. Aryaen society is rooted in a hierarchical system based on a mixture of strength and intelligence, not unlike the lions they resemble. They call this system 'R Circaloos Vitel." Roughly translated it means 'the circle of life.' Quite amusing, once you think about it."

"Yeah, the King of the Jungle is a childhood favorite. Dad read it to me every night before bed." Selena said, studying one of the lion men's massive biceps. "They're as tall as Kull." Her uncle responded with a grunt and took a swig of the liquor he now held in his hand. As they spoke one of the Aryaes threw his head back and laughed. It was a thunderous sound, that was closer to a roar than a laugh. The laugh wasn't loud enough to disrupt the entire ballroom, but it made those within the immediate area turn and wonder what an angry Aryae sounded like.

The one that had laughed was obviously the head of the delegation. He was not dressed in the traditional white toga of the Aryaes. His was a light shade of blue held together by an intricate pin of gold. A beautiful roaring lion sat depicted on it. "Who is that?" Selena asked her uncle. Murtaugh hiccupped as he followed his niece's gaze to the charismatic Lion man.

"Ah, that's Leoness, the ambassador. He's an interesting one."

"Really? What makes him so interesting?" Selena asked, never taking her eyes off Leoness.

"Well Tigon, the current Aryaen king, is very old. It's only a matter of time before he croaks. Then there will be a scramble for the throne. Leoness's claim is heavily favored."

"If the king is so old why hasn't he been overthrown? Isn't that part of 'the circle of life?"

"Aw, you're thinking of them as Buroks or werewolves. The Aryae's hierarchy is based on strength and intelligence. A cub could beat Tigon in a contest of strength at this point. But no one has ever been able to outwit him. Many have tried, including Leoness."

Selena held her chin as she thought. "Well, what's he like? I assume he's for the cooperation between the Aryaes and Yakir?"

"Oh yes. He's in charge of most of the forges that create Aryaen steel, which is mostly bought by the kingdom for the wolf hunters' guns and swords. I'd wager ending that relationship would bankrupt Leoness. Mind you, there are many other Aryaes in the running for the throne who are avidly against cooperation with us. They still haven't forgiven Yakir for the Aryaes that died in the Ra'zac war."

"Selena! There you are!" The two of them turned to Eragon, who was a little bit away signaling for Selena to walk over. There was an elf next to him whom Selena assumed her father wanted her to meet, which prompted her to let out a groan.

"Looks like you got someone to meet, Monkey." Murtagh chuckled. "Good luck." He stumbled away, presumably to find more booze.

Selena took a deep breath in, straightened out her dress, and slapped a particularly painful smile onto her face. "See? It's not so bad, is it?" Eragon asked as she approached.

"It's pretty bad, dad." The two embraced for a moment before Eragon introduced Selena to the elf standing next to him.

"Selena, I'd like you to meet the master of the Silver Pond, Lord Uuza." Selena blinked in surprise. She turned to the famous vampire and studied him for a moment. He was tall and broad, his body obviously favoring the mesomorphic form. His blue eyes were kind and a sense of courage and friendliness seemed to emanate from his face. It put Selena at ease. Uuza's sharp jaw and thin nose, accentuated by his messy, ear length hair, paired well with his physique. He wore a formal green tunic with brown boots. Strapped to his side was his mystical sword Bahal, said to have been crafted by the gods themselves for the sole purpose of eradicating evil. Supposedly, any evil that touched the sword was obliterated instantly. It's purple cross guard angled toward the blade, and reminded Selena of an eagle. The sword had an orange gem in the guard's center that dimly glowed with power, no doubt filled to the brim after the countless millennia Uuza had wielded the weapon.

"Lord Uuza, it's pleasure." Selena held out her hand, replacing her fake smile with a genuine one.

The vampire smiled warmly. "Please, Selena, the pleasure's all mine." He took her hand and shook. "Your father talks about you a lot." Uuza's voice matched his body in supposed age, but Selena knew the being in front of her was as old as time itself.

"That's weird, there's not really much to talk about." She responded, smiling at her father.

"That's not what I hear. I hear you're strong, and capable. And best of all you're young, full of energy!"

"Uuza…" Her father began.

"Come now, Shemtov. She's nineteen! I'd wager that's old enough for her to make her own decisions." The vampire smiled charmingly.

"We have been friends for many years, Uuza. You know I do not approve."

"What don't you approve of?" Selena looked at each man with curiosity. "What are you talking about?" Uuza held his hands out to his side in an inquisitorial fashion, to which Eragon replied with a sigh.

"The Council," Uuza began, lowering his voice. "Has taken an interest in you."

Selena's eyes widened in surprise. "The… the Council of Seven?" She laughed in disbelief. "The most powerful beings in the world… are interested in me?"

"Very much so." Uuza replied. He seemed taken aback at Selena's surprise. "Why the confusion, Selena? Surely Shemtov's explained this to you?" The vampire looked at Eragon, then back at Selena. "Hmm… apparently not. Well then tell me Selena, what do you know about the Council?"

"Well," Selena began, still trying to wrap her head around this sudden realization. "You're… vampires. Vampire Lords and Ladies. The first beings ever to come into existence, born from a time where the world was nothing but magical chaos. With your help the world calmed down, and life was able to flourish."

"Mhmm. And what of the rest of the Seven? Do you know much about them? What aspects they personify?" Uuza asked. Selena looked at her father briefly to find that he was looking away, probably to avoid letting his anger show. Despite that, she continued.

"Yeah. You're Lord Uuza, the aspect of courage. You're the youngest of the Seven and considered the most kind and helpful." At this Uuza waved his hand in the air, as if to wipe away the sentiment. "Your coven is on the Silver Pond. Then there's Koahn, the aspect of power. He's the most powerful and the second oldest, behind Gar the aspect of gluttony. His coven is at the Matay, where the council meets. His twin is Carn, the aspect of wrath-"

"This is ridiculous, Uuza!" Eragon interjected. "Just ask the girl and move on."

"Hey, come on dad." Selena said with a reassuring smile. "This is fun! Nothing better to pass the time then talk to a Vampire Lord, afterall." Her father squinted his eyes and sighed.

"Fine." He conceded as he walked away.

"So," Uuza said. "Continue." Excitement filled his voice. He was obviously enjoying this just as much as Selena.

"Well, Carn's the wrath aspect. He's aggressive and considered one of the more malevolent Lords. Then there's Gar, the worst of the worst." Selena saw Uuza shiver dramatically at the mention of his older brother. "He's the aspect of gluttony, and the oldest. Gar's the only one considered to be evil by the Yakirians."

"We keep him in check, don't worry." Uuza added.

"Then of course there are the Vampire Ladies, Praigma, Homa, and Eros. They're the aspects of Love, Wisdom, and Lust, respectively, and are some of the most powerful vampires. In fact, it was Lady Praigma who took the Red Wolf Ran under her wing and eventually turned him into the first werewolf. The war that followed obviously resulted in Eros-"

Uuza laughed. It stopped Selena short, and she suddenly realized how stupid she must have seemed. There she was blabbering like an excited school girl to one of the most powerful beings in existence about his own institution. Selena chuckled at her own foolishness. "I'm sorry. I guess I got a little carried away." She ended with a shrug.

Uuza, still laughing, put his hand on her shoulder. "No, no Selena no apology needed! I'm just… well, utterly impressed at how much you know. You're very smart."

"Nah, I just like learning. Nothing special about me."

"Now that, Selena, is where you're wrong." The vampire said, pointing a finger at her. "Do you know how the covens work? I mean the hierarchy within them." He asked. Selena responded with a pshh.

"Of course." She acted a little pompous as a tease. "The Lords are at the top, and then you have your Yemans, seconds in command, followed by your lieutenants, and then… well that's all I remember." She finished bashfully. "Oh, and they're all vampires. Handpicked and turned by the Lord himself."

Uuza stared at her, his mouth smiling and slightly agape. "You are truly amazing Selena." He shook his head in disbelief. "This is why the Council… why I've taken such an interest in you." Selena raised her eyebrows. "A couple of months ago, my Yeman Victoria was killed in a Silverback raid. The bastard ripped her throat out."

"I'm so sorry, Lord Uuza." Selena was becoming uncomfortable. What's he getting at?

"It was a hard loss for me. Listen, I won't beat around the bush. I have heard of you intellectual and combat prowess. If you allow me, I'd like to make you my new Yeman."

Selena was taken aback. She had absolutely no idea how to respond. Now she understood why her father had been so against their talking, why he had been so aggravated; he was scared Selena would accept. I would never. She thought to herself. But the more she thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. Vampires were extremely powerful beings. She would not be a rider, no, but everything she ever wanted would come true. She would be powerful, able to make a name for herself. Suddenly, all the insecurities that she had spent the past few months fighting off started slowly creeping back into her being, like parasites returning to their host through newly formed holes in its hide. And here Uuza stood, offering her the fire to incinerate those parasites. To become a vampire. The idea was… frighteningly awesome. She would be invincible, only able to be pierced by silver. Selena thought about how fast she would become, given how fast she was now as a regular person. The same could be said about her strength, her skills, everything she had spent her life developing and honing, she could enhance even more. The prospect was too good to pass up.

No no no! What am I thinking! I... I can't leave everything behind. Father, mother, Glanduil, Hope… Elaina. That name sent an especially cold chill down her spine. Elaina was Selena's first ever true friend. She had always spent so much time on training that she never had time for social interaction. In that moment, Selena realized just how much she loved and appreciated Elaina. It warmed her.

"Do not be anxious, Selena." Uuza's words pulled Selena from her thoughts. "I don't want to pressurize you at all. Take all the time you need."

"I, uh-"

"And don't feel obligated in any way to accept. I understand this is a long shot, and trust me I have many other candidates in mind that would be more than suitable. You are just too skilled not to ask."

Selena smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Lord Uuza. Don't worry I'll… I'll definitely think about it."

"Good." He said with a warm smile. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to go find Koahn. I haven't seen my brother in years!" The Vampire Lord walked off happily, leaving a confused and blank faced Selena behind. She stood there thinking about what transpired for a couple of minutes.

"The first time talking to a Lord can be… overwhelming. They almost always want something from you." A young voice came from Selena's right side. She turned to look at its owner.

Next to her stood a tall, handsome human boy of a similar age to her. As a matter of fact, he was the most handsome boy Selena had ever seen in her entire life, human or elf. His eyes were light brown and kind, and laugh lines emanated from the corners of his eyes that were obviously used in abundance. He was clean shaven with a strong jaw line, drawing attention to his curled lip. The man had bright orange hair that burned like fire and was thick as Caetz vine.

Selena was completely taken aback. She had never in her life been so attracted to a single individual, man or elf. When she attempted to speak, nothing but a pitiful squeak escaped her lips. The man's eyes widened in surprise, and it was obvious that he thought her to be odd. Blood raced to Selena's face and her eyes mimicked his, except hers widened with horror. She had never had a problem talking to boys. Yet here she was, so in awe of the one standing before her she could not speak.

"Are uh… are you alright?" The boy asked.

Luckily, Selena was able to snap out of her trance before the situation got anymore awkward. "Y-yes. Sorry I just…"

The mystery boy held his hand up. "No need. I understand."

Selena's blush intensified. "You do?"

"Of course. Like I said, Vampire Lords are overwhelming. If it's any consolation the first time I met Koahn I could not say a single word." Selena just blinked.

Finally, she recuperated enough to ask, "Who are you?"

"Oh shit, where are my manners? I'm such an ass." He laughed. "I'm Jonathan." Jonathan took her hand and planted a kiss on it.

Selena's amazement simply grew. "Jonathan?" She asked.

"Yes, that is my name." He replied.

"Like, the Jonathan?"

Jonathan smiled uncomfortably. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"Are you the prince?" Selena finally blurted out.

Jonathan held his hands out in defeat. "You caught me. Allow me to introduce myself." He placed his left hand over his chest, his right out to the side and stepped his right leg back as he bowed low. "Prince Jonathan Scornhold the Second. At your service."


	11. An Interesting Discovery

Eragon sipped his drink as the two Vampire Lords in front of him conversed. The three of them sat at one of the tables around the ballroom, secluded in the bottom left corner of the hall and silenced with a deafening spell to ward off any would be eavesdroppers.

"He's getting cocky, Koahn, and for good reason. He killed Victoria! You know how strong she was." Uuza's voice was urgent, emphasizing the severity of the situation. Koahn sat stone faced and unmoving, with his hand on his chin. Out of all the Vampire Lords, Eragon respected Koahn the most. He led the Council of Seven as the aspect of power, and was second in knowledge and experience only to Homa, who personified wisdom. He was more or less benevolent, and cared deeply for the realm of Yakir. There have been a couple of times in history where he has completely mobilized every Lord to a cause, the most recent example being the Second Ra'zac war. Eragon held the deepest appreciation for the vampire, as without his aid the Ra'zac would have razed and looted Aryal into non-existence.

On top of that, the margin of strength between him and Praigma, who was considered the second most powerful of the Seven, was astronomical. Koahn was the only person Eragon had ever met that could keep up with him in a swordfight. As Eragon floated through his thoughts, Koahn responded to his little brother. "Silverback is getting stronger." He began. The vampire's voice was low and masculine, and commanded respect whenever he spoke. He was calm and deliberate, enunciating every syllable as if to cement the care and wisdom that went into forming the thought. The voice, coupled with his extremely dark skin and massive physique, made for an intimidating man. "However, he only threatens the Pond and the villages dotting the North." Koahn continued. "Shemtov protects Aryal and Nahan with his riders and hunters, and offers progressively increasing support to you as well, little brother… but," He held his hand out to Uuza, who had inhaled in preparation to interrupt, "you are correct. Silverback is becoming stronger. There is no doubt in my mind that he will eventually branch out and become a national threat. This, we cannot allow."

Eragon saw Uuza raise his brows in surprise. Obviously, the vampire was not expecting Koahn to validate him. "So we will convene, then?"

"Aye, we will convene."

"If I may be so bold, gentlemen." Eragon interjected. Both vampires looked at him as if they forgotten he was even there. Eragon wasn't surprised, as he had sat there for the past forty-five minutes silently listening to their discussion. "I find your lack of faith in me offensive." He half teased.

"Come now Shemtov, we have to look at the facts here." Uuza urged. "You've been dealing with this wolf for years now and you still haven't caught him."

"Aye, but we've completely contained him. His rate of attacks has decreased, his pack dwindles with every wolf we take down, and he would never dream of facing us head on."

"Which is better, Shemtov? The containment of a virus, or its deletion?" Koahn's base voice asked.

Eragon exhaled in slight irritation. "He's clever, we all know that. My group hasn't found him yet, but we will, given time." At this Koahn and Uuza glanced at each other uneasily.

After a moment, Koahn said, "The Council believes-"

"The Council," Eragon interjected, filling his voice with power, "has no jurisdiction beyond the Pond." Eragon sensed the wave a fear that rolled off of Uuza at his sudden change in tone.

"Shemtov… the Council protects all of Yakir." Koahn said cautiously. Even he was getting nervous.

"All of Yakir," the Shadeslayer responded, "except for the North. That is _my_ domain."

"Yours?" Koahn asked, still apprehensive. "Shemtov, let us not forget why you came to Yakir in the first place. Nobody wants another Black King."

That was the point of no return. Eragon felt himself begin to slip away into his rage. He felt the power hidden deep within him, the force he had spent the better part of a millennium learning to control, rising to the surface. As it grew and replaced more and more of his essence with its own, he became panicked. If he lost control it would be over. Every person in the ballroom, the Vampire Lords included, would no doubt perish. Eragon sat there staring hard into Koahn's eyes, where he would've seen a mixture of caution and concern swirling within had he not been utterly focused on regaining himself. Just before his rage completely consumed him and he lost control, Eragon felt the grasp of his best friend clench onto his mind. _Calm, little one._ Saphira's soothing voice seemed to reverberate of the walls of the palace. She anchored herself firmly to reality, and pulled with all of her might to bring Eragon back as well. After a moment he joined her with a new found strength to keep calm and save the lives of everyone he cared for. But it was a hard, uphill battle. Eragon and Saphira were linked with the Ancient Language. Not like regular things were, but intimately. They had studied the Name for over a thousand years, learning its mysteries and unraveling its secrets. They could see anything and do everything. A literal endless amount of magical power and knowledge was available to them. But such omniscient power came at a heavy price. A single being cannot be so intricately entwined with the very essence of the universe without ultimately being overwhelmed and absorbed by the Name, instantaneously gaining all the power and knowledge in the world and ceasing to exist. They only way Eragon and Saphira were holding was by anchoring themselves to each other, and fighting with all their might against the danger Eragon bore within himself.

Slowly but surely, the power began to subside. _Thank you, Saphira._ Eragon told his dragon as they pushed through the final aggression of his curse. _Without you, I am truly lost._

 _And without you,_ Saphira responded, _I have no purpose._

"Eragon!" He snapped back to reality. Arya stood in front of him grasping his face. All eyes in the ballroom were on him and the music had stopped. Eragon looked around and saw he was standing. He could feel sweat dripping down his forehead, as if he had just ran for days on end with no rest. "Eragon, my love, talk to me!" Arya said frantically. Eragon looked into her eyes. Her beautiful, green eyes that he loved. He wanted to speak, to tell her that he was fine and everything was ok. He wanted to embrace her and be held close to her breast, one of the only two places in the world where he felt truly safe. But Eragon could not speak in that moment. He had no energy at all. Absolutely none. None to talk, none to stand, none even to breathe. Eragon was so fatigued, in fact, that he could not even stay awake, and fell into his wife's arms, completely unconscious.

!

Arya sat in a white arm chair across from their bed. The chair had an intricate design made up of blue flowers that were so soothing to look it it almost made one feel immaculately clean. The room they had received was large and decorated, fitting for the Queen and King of the elves. It had white walls with a scene of battle painted on the ceiling. Three large windows provided a pretty view of the Rose quarter of Yerushalmi, and Arya wished she was calm enough to look out and absorb the beauty of the city. To the right of the windows was a walk-in closet larger than Eragon's study back at the Blue Palace. If Arya had to guess, about ninety-five percent of the closet was devoted to her and the clothes the Royalty had gifted to her. Formal dresses, shoes, and other such articles of feminine clothing lined the white walls, leaving only a portion of a corner for Eragon's shirts and tunics. When Arya had expressed her unhappiness with the situation, Eragon had laughed and waved it off.

The room's bed was massive, heavy overkill for just two people. Arya found the amount of pillows and sheets it offered to be utterly ridiculous. Leaning her head against the chair, she closed her eyes and thought of her bed at home. A simple, wooden frame just wide and long enough to fit the feathered mattress she had slept on her whole life.

Her face contorted. It was a single-person bed, of course. What use would she have of a queen, or king sized bed? She had no one to share it with.

 _Stop it, Pinewood._ Firnen's deep voice said.

 _He calls himself my husband._ She responded.

 _He is your husband._

 _He claims to love me._

 _Stop this Pinewood!_ Arya felt the pain in his words.

 _Damn it, Firnen._ She rubbed her eyes. _I don't mean to hurt you so._

 _You are imagining things, Arya._

 _Am I?_ She mentally heard him snort.

 _He has been your husband for a thousand years. Why would he make that kind of commitment if he did not love you?_

 _A thousand years? Eragon and I are only man and wife three months out of twelve. He insists on following that stupid witch's prophecy rather than being with his own lover._

 _Pinewood, he has responsibilities-_

"To me!" She yelled to the room, standing up out of her chair in hurt and anger. "He has responsibilities…" she slowly sank back down. The floodgates that were her eyes had reached their limit. "...to me." she finished softly, bringing her knees to her torso and wrapping her arms around them. Instead of responding with words, Firnen poured the support and love he had for her into her mind. Arya smiled as his comforting presence filled her and made her feel slightly better. The tears began to subside from her eyes.

Across from her, her husband stirred. Arya let out a bittersweet chuckle as she realized her outburst had almost woken him. Apparently, after his little… whatever it was earlier that night, he would be asleep for a while. And not the way he normally slept, still semi-conscious. Truly unaware of the world around him. Like a human. Arya imagined he had not slept like this for over a thousand years, back when he actually _was_ human. She smiled as memories of those days rushed into her mind. He was so young, and stupid. And so utterly infatuated with her. Arya cringed as she remembered all of the times he had confessed his so called "love" to her only to be answered by a cold, stone heart. _I was so sure in the beginning that I would never fall in love with him. He was so young and… human._ She told Firnen. _And yet there was something about him that was so attractive. And when the dragons changed him… I remember that night he had begged for my hand yet again. I told him the age gap was too high, that I was simply to experienced to be with him. Looking back I suppose I was also telling that to myself. Both he and I were denied that night._

 _He never stopped, Pinewood._ Firnen said. _All those years, before and after Aryal, he never stopped pursuing you. At some point in your campaign against the Black King, his obsession turned to love._

 _I remember. I was so scared when my own feelings for him started forming that I ignored them. I was too scared of rejection. I was a coward._

 _Perhaps._ Firnen paused for a moment. _But nothing in life is scarier than love. Especially, among you two-legged ones._

They both chuckled and enjoyed each other's mental presence. Arya felt herself calming down, and realized how lost she would be without Firnen. _I love you, my little Greeni._ She said.

 _And who, exactly, are you calling little, Pinewood?_ Arya laughed fully, and then covered her mouth when she saw Eragon stir again. _So, how is yours doing? Mine is still lost in sleep._

 _Aye, Saphira sleeps as well._ There was a noticeable amount of astonishment in his voice. _I've never seen her this… still before._

 _Whatever happened to them… it was intense._ Arya thought back to the event in question. Everyone in the room had felt it. Waves of magical energy rolled of Eragon and many of the weaker minded people in the room were knocked unconscious. He had stood completely still staring into Koahn's eyes. "Eragon?" She had asked as she reached him. "Eragon, what is happening?" Her hands held his face and she stared into his eyes. Than she had turned to Koahn. "What have you done?"

"He became angry. Beyond that I do not know." The dark vampire had calmly explained.

Arya had then projected her mind out to Saphira only to find that she was equally as incapacitated, with Firnen at her side as well. It had been ten minutes before his sweaty and shaking body had fallen into her arms.

Sitting there in her chair, Arya observed her husband. _He's changed so much since then._ She told Firnen. His hair had grown grey long ago, and he was constantly tired. He tried hard to hide it, but Arya could see it in his eyes. Humans weren't meant to live as long as he had, and while he was technically a hybrid he still had the mind of a man. Arya often teased him that he would one day become senile and turn into an old man trapped in a younger man's body.

He lay with his chest and abdomen exposed, with the rest of his naked body covered by the sheets. Arya had not wanted him to overheat. She smiled as she observed his sculpted arms and rippling body. Elven men were all narrow beings, and didn't have much muscle mass. Their overwhelming strength was rooted in magic, after all. What need did they have of muscle? However, when Eragon changed he didn't fully transform. He still grew hair on his face and chest, unlike elven men. He still kept his broad stature, which Arya prefered. She bit her lip and crossed her legs as she remembered the first time they had lied together. Humans' broader, more masculine structure had always been much more appealing to Arya than elven mens' skinnier build. However, no human man was as fair or lived as long as an elven man. So Arya had accepted from an early age that whomever she chose to be her mate would not fully satisfy her attractions. Until Eragon. The dragons had changed him into the perfect man for her. It had taken all of her strength to deny him that night.

 _Now Pinewood, you would not appreciate me displaying the first time Saphira and I mated like a play in our heads would you?_ Firnen asked.

Arya's eyes widened slightly. _Ah, my apologies Firnen. I… forget we were linked._

 _Do not fret. It is good to think back to those times. To remember the love that exists between you two. Just... do it on your own time._

Arya obviously understood how close she and her dragon were. Notwithstanding, it was still nice to see how comfortable they were with each other. It reassured her.

She sat there chatting with Firnen as they waited for their respective mates to come to. Arya's mood began gradually improving. Until Eragon awoke.

The dragon and rider were quizzing each other on the history of dwarven culture, and how it helped shape the general culture of Alagaesia. Things like this were common games they played with each other when they had free time. Suddenly, Eragon groaned and propped himself up on his elbows, and Arya's mood became sour once more.

He looked around the room, confused. When his eyes found Arya he smiled. "My love… what's happened?" He held his hand up to his head. "The last thing I remember was talking to Koahn and Uuza…" Suddenly a look of realization took his face. "Ah, I remember."

"Excellent," Arya stood up with her arms crossed and angrily walked to the side of the bed. "Maybe you'll be able to explain what happened in there." He looked at her for a moment and brought his hand up to his head again.

"... perhaps later, Arya. I have a splitting headache."

"No. Explain." She responded sternly.

"Arya, please-"

"Now." She attempted to flood her voice with power the same way Eragon did. But the effect's magnitude could not match his own.

"My love, it was nothing you need to concern yourself with." He reached his hand out to hers, which she swatted away angrily. "Arya…" Eragon looked shocked at her rage.

"Nothing I need to worry about? Eragon, you knocked people unconscious. You stood there for ten entire minutes staring at Koahn until you passed out right into my arms. Do you really expect me to just forget about that?" He looked away from her. "You won't tell me?" She asked.

"Arya, it was nothing. Please, just... trust me."

"Trust you?" That was the moment she snapped. "I can't trust you. Hell, I can barely interact with you anymore!"

"Arya-"

"No." She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You will be quite and you will hear what I have to say." His was a face of pure surprise. _Typical._ Arya thought. _Completely oblivious to my needs._ "You are hiding something from me, Eragon. You have been for centuries. I didn't want to believe it until now. I thought we were stronger than that. But obviously, you cannot uphold the commitment you made all those years ago when you wrapped that twine around my arm. I have ignored whatever it is, but tonight I reached my limit." She stopped for a moment to gauge Eragon's reaction. He was completely taken aback. For the first time in almost a millennium, Eragon Bromsson was speechless.

"Arya I… I don't know what to say."

"How about this." She got on her knees so their faces were level. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm imagining it and that you've no secrets at all."

He stared blankly back at her, silent.

"Right," Arya did not break eye contact. "You are going to tell me. Whatever it is you've been hiding from me, you're going to tell me. Or I will walk out the door." A few moments passed before Eragon sighed in defeat and looked away.

"Arya you are… the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I… I truly don't believe I would have been able to make it as far as I have if you hadn't been by my side, supporting and loving me the entire way through. Human beings… they simply were not meant to live as long as I have. Without you and our children… what would Saphira and I have to live for? We would have no doubt gone rogue long ago, and became the very thing we set out to destroy a thousand years ago." He exhaled in amusement. "I am truly a fool. Koahn… he was absolutely right."

"What was he right about?" Arya asked, attempting to adopt a softer and more loving tone of voice now that he seemed ready to explain.

Eragon turned to look at her, and Arya saw once again the perpetual tiredness he was cursed with. It had never been so clear to her before. She had never seen her husband look so vulnerable and lost. _Is this what he's like when we're away?_ None of the anger that had manifested itself within her three minutes ago still existed. Instead, pity and love filled her heart.

"I forbade the Council from entering the North to look for Silverback. Koahn warned me not to let my power go to my head, as the Black King had. That's what triggered my outburst."

"Your outburst? What does that even mean, Eragon?"

Still looking away he answered. "Saphira and I… we've been studying the Name for centuries." He turned to her. "When you're as intricately linked to the essence of magic as we are… it's easy to lose control sometimes. Especially when you're angry. It hijacks your mind, tries to use your body as a vessel to escape in its purest, deadliest form. Had it not been for Saphira tonight, everyone in this castle would be dead."

Arya was confused. "You… you speak as if the ancient language is… alive and sentient."

"Not the ancient language, my love. Magic itself. The thing that forms the very fabric of our reality. I wouldn't necessarily call it sentient… but it is absolutely alive." Arya looked at her husband and took his hand into hers. She brought it up to her face and rubbed it against her cheek. "I am truly sorry for keeping this from you, Arya. I… I just didn't want you to worry."

"Hush." She said, closing her eyes against his hand. "It is I who need to apologize. I shouldn't have been so aggressive." She released her husband's hand and allowed him to continue rubbing her face. "The Blue King…" she teased. "I suppose you do not know of what happened to your daughter?"

"What did she do?" Eragon smiled.

"Nothing at all. She was hastily escorted out of the ballroom by none other than our future king." Her husband's smile widened.

"It seems my failure at dinner is inconsequential then."

!

Cool Southern air gently caressed Selena's face as she crossed her left foot over her right. The moon shone brightly above them and partially illuminated the sparring yard. Given the vast amount of disappointment Yerushalmi had offered her, the castle's sparring yard came as a welcome surprise. Dummies with various amounts of armor and of different shapes and sizes dotted the field, some so elaborate that they even had pulleys and other such devices hooked up to them so that they could move. Racks of swords, bayoneted muskets, twinblades, and many other weapons lined the walls. The walls of the shooting range off to the right were similarly stocked with various firearms, powder, and bullets. Surrounding torches that usually lit the yard now sat extinguished, most likely because nobody expected anyone to be there during the ball. Obviously, whoever was in charge of planning did not know Selena.

Across from Selena the Prince of Yakir mirrored her movements. She had never been so captivated by someone in her entire life. After her sudden shock had abated Selena rebuilt the confidence she had spent so long developing. Her attraction to Jonathan made it a tad bit harder, but she had been a charismatic asshole her entire life. Some pretty boy wasn't about to put a stop to that, be he king or peasant. The two had quickly discovered they shared multiple interests. The first thing Jonathan inquired about was Selena's bi-racial origins.

"It's interesting that you seem to have inherited almost no human traits even though you're a hybrid. You look entirely elvish."

"And you look entirely human." She had responded with an excited smile.

His eyebrows rose with surprise at that and his grin grew even wider. "Hmm very clever. Not many people can tell I'm mixed. They look at the ears and just assume." The prince gestured toward his perfectly rounded ears.

"It's your face. Too angular, the eyes give it all away. Plus you're way too attractive." She flirted, quite blatantly.

"Clever girl." he teased back. Selena had made the decision not to tell him that her uncle had told her about the prince's parentage on the road. Once the two had exhausted the topic of hybrids they moved onto their next common obsession: werewolves. It was hard to find a place in the ballroom quiet enough to talk, but the duo had managed to find a corner that was noiseless enough to whisper. Selena told him how her father was the foremost researcher of werewolves in the kingdom, and that she was taking his advanced class. Jonathan responded by telling her how Eragon had actually tutored him in the subject for a year, something Selena did not know. They talked about the different kinds of wolves, the power spectrum, the most famous wolves throughout history, etc. Finally, they arrived at Silverback.

"Have you ever heard him howl?" Jonathan asked. Selena found it adorable how he bounced slightly in his seat as they discussed the matter.

She slowly nodded her head with a smile of satisfaction.

"Really?"

"Just once." She held up a finger. "It was amazing. You could feel his power pushing against you almost like a… like a wall. Trying to force its way in."

"You know silvers shake the ground when the howl? How cool is that?"

Selena scoffed. "Of course I do. My brother felt it that night."

"The White Knight? Oh, I've heard he's great with a sword." Selena's smile lessened a little at that comment. "I'd love to test my skills against his own."

That made Selena chuckle. "You against Evy? You wouldn't last a minute."

Jonathan responded with a raised eyebrow. "Come on, Selena, you of all people should know that just cause a hybrid looks human doesn't mean he's as lethargic as one." When that didn't seem to phase her, he continued. "I've never met a man or elf I haven't been able to beat."

"You've never been beaten?"

"Well, of course I've been _beaten_. But sooner or later I always get my revenge." He replied smugly.

"You ever sparred with a rider?" Every minute that passed only served to heighten Selena's fascination with this boy.

"Many. They all fell eventually, just like the rest." Selena squinted her eyes at Jonathan. She admitted to herself that his confidence was attractive, but it also started to sound like it was turning to arrogance. That's when she decided to see if he bit as hard as he barked.

"Well let me tell you a little secret," she began. "I'm just as good as my brother. Fighting me would be an ample enough test." Surprisingly, anxiety began to fill her. Jonathan was extremely confident in his skills and hadn't mentioned exactly which riders he had beaten. They could've been very powerful. Selena had always thought she was invincible, until Glandy had knocked her ass flat on the ground.

That comment had been more than enough. After a quick conversation setting the rules of the match and the location, the two sneaked out of the ballroom and back to their respective rooms. Selena had noted how her heart raced as she changed into her usual attire: simple brown trousers, black boots, and a white hunting shirt. It was chilly outside but the cold had never bothered her. As she got ready she kept thinking back to Jonathan and how amazing he was. Boys had never really been a priority to Selena. Obviously, she was attracted to some and her thoughts often wondered when she wasn't occupied, but her father had trained her body and her mind ever since her fourth birthday. Seeing as it had been her only request at the time, she had fully devoted herself to it. So it was easy enough to ignore boys and focus on training. But as the night had progressed and she discovered more about the prince, she had become more and more infatuated with him. He was handsome, witty, intelligent, they had what seemed to be hundreds of common interests, and she had never found it easier to talk to a person in her life. Their conversations flowed more naturally than some of the discussions she and Elaina had. Jonathan's bragging about his swordsmanship had been the final piece of evidence Selena needed to tell that this boy was special. And so there they stood, circling each other in the sparring yard, each anxiously waiting to test the other's skills.

Unfortunately, when the time came to fight, Selena was disappointed. Admittedly, Jonathan was extremely fast. Selena could see how he could beat elves and some young riders. But the gap between them became painfully obvious. To Selena anyway.

Jonathan was the first to strike. He lunged forward and brought his wooden sword up diagonally. Selena flicked it aside with ease and continued circling, convinced that Jonathan was simply testing her strength. It was an easy enough move to parry, especially because the wooden swords they were using felt lighter than feathers compared to the steel ones Selena had been practicing with as of late. She looked down at the sword for a moment and chuckled, thinking back to when she thought this to be the regular weight of a blade. Jonathan saw her glance down and struck again, this time stepping into a thrust aimed at her gut. However, Selena had seen him move out of her periphery and, as a joke, waited until the last possible moment to shift her body sideways and slightly to the left so his sword pierced nothing but the cool night air. She capitalized by stepping forward, almost lazily, and grabbing his hilt. Surprise filled Jonathan's eyes and lifted his brows as she yanked him forward into the butt of her sword. The girl had aimed her strike higher than normal, so as to not break his nose. Instead, the wood connected with his forehead. Despite the weakness of the hit, he was thrown backward onto his ass, with Selena holding his sword in her left hand. She threw it at his feet and walked away chuckling. "I thought we agreed not to hold back, Jonathan." When the boy didn't respond she turned, and her smile faded instantly.

Jonathan still sat on the ground, his eyes wide and staring at the sword by his feet. "My gods Jonathan I-I am so sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn't mean.." she rushed to his side and put a hand on his back.

"Selena…" He was absolutely dumbfounded. "You're… you're so much faster than me. That was everything I had in me. And you...you just pushed me aside. Like a fly." Selena's heart started pounding with fear. _Shit._ She thought. _Shit shit shit! Fuck! I'm so stupid!_

"Jonathan I… I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything I just-"

"Embarrass me?" The prince turned to her. "You put me in my place." He chuckled. "The whole night I was trying to act so… manly. Gloating, to impress you. And you know the funniest part? I actually thought I could take you. You must think I'm such an asshole" Selena just sat there and stared, wordless. Finally, she found her tongue again.

"I-I don't think that…" She immediately registered how timid she sounded and averted her eyes.

"Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are?" She turned back to face him and realized again how handsome he was. How warm he was. How… close he was. Suddenly, an urge began to bubble up inside of her. Within an instant it hijacked her rationale and every cell in her body seemed to be screaming at her to close the gap. They clawed at her, like trillions of little werewolves, each with the intensity and burning heat of a wildfire. But unfortunately for them the little bit of sanity that still remained within Selena happened to be in control. "Has anyone ever told you," he glanced down at her lips for a moment, then back up to her eyes. "how beautiful you are?" Only a another second passed before Jonathan raised his right hand to her cheek and brought her face to his own.

He was gentle when their lips first touched, leaving them there for a moment so as not to overwhelm Selena. Then she felt his tongue softly prod against her lips, and her mouth opened to admit it by instinct. That was when Selena closed her eyes, and let her tongue control itself. It seemed to dance with his, rolling over and under, and exploring the rest of his mouth. Selena heard the sloppy, wet sounds that were emanating from the space between their faces. It only excited her even more. After Jonathan had sat up straighter to get more comfortable, his hand fell from her face and found her right breast, causing Selena to inhale slightly when he began fondling it. It did not, however, interrupt their kiss.

In total the kiss must have lasted five seconds. When they pulled apart Selena noticed that at some point her left hand had migrated to his chest and sat exploring the intricate shape and hardness of his chiseled pectoral. He smiled at her and said, "Because you are _extremely_ beautiful." Selena removed her hand from his chest and straightened out her back. Still looking him in the eyes she replied, "I… I've never done that before."

"What, kissed a guy you just threw on the floor?"

"No," she was too in awe to recognize the humor. "Kissed a guy at all."

"Really? Didn't seem like it."

"What does that mean?" Selena asked, still semi-shocked.

"I just meant that… you were good." Jonathan's demeanor shifted slightly as he laughed nervously. Obviously, he didn't want to ruin the moment. They sat in silence for a moment. Then he put his hand on her thigh. "I can't believe no one's ever kissed you before." The prince paused for a moment. "Well now that I think about it, they were all probably just too scared of you."

It took Selena a second to realize that he was teasing her. "Excuse me?" She asked with feigned indignation.

"Oh, you don't like what I said? What are you gonna do about it?" Jonathan narrowed his eyes at her. Instead of replying verbally, Selena squinted back at him and then roughly pushed him to the ground. She then climbed ontop of him and straddled his crotch. "Whoa, where did this fiestyness come from?" Jonathan placed his hands on her hips.

"Let's just say I'm a quick learner." Selena replied with a wicked smile and a new found attitude, bending down and locking lips with him again. This kiss was vastly different to the first. Instead of dancing their tongues seemed to wrestle. And in place of the anxious, shy feeling about the situation there was an intense and almost ferocious force in Selena piloting her. This kiss lasted much longer than the first one, and both parties were panting heavily when they finally parted.

"Seriously!" Jonathan exclaimed with a surprised smile. "Where the fuck did that come from?" Selena simply giggled in response.

"You know," she said, "you said I was beautiful. You're not too bad yourself."

"Well, it takes a lot more than a pretty face to be beautiful."

"Oh really?" Selena purred.

"Oh yeah." Jonathan's hands slapped down hard against her buttocks. Selena let out a yelp as her spine instinctively straightened in response. She felt the shape of his erect penis below her as she moved, of which she made a mental note. "You _are_ new to this." The prince said as he caressed and pulled at her asscheeks.

"New and enthusiastic." She responded, bending down to kiss him a third time.


	12. A Patient Wolf

Comparing the capital to Aryal was a habit Selena had fallen into recently. It wasn't a conscious thing, but the farthest she had ever ventured out of her home city had been to some of the valleys of the surrounding Silver Mountains. It was only natural for the young woman to compare the only two cities she had ever seen. This morning Selena walked Yerushalmi by foot, as opposed to her entrance on horseback, and was able to spot a few more differences, such as the complete lack of the Ancient Language. Aryal was the only city in Yakir that utilized the magical tongue as its default mode of communication. The rest of the country spoke the common tongue of Yakir. It was a language similar to the one spoken in Alagaesia, where Selena's parents were from, but not similar enough to be sisters. Most likely, the two languages shared a common ancestor, but were divided when the Council of Seven established the official borders of Yakir. It makes sense. Selena thought as she stopped at one of the few fruit carts with fresh produce and inspected an apple. Common shares many more roots with Sylvan than it does with Alagaesian. Selena supposed the vampires had done that on purpose. Mixing their language with the one of the land had created the common spoken today, and let the relationship between the Council and the people of Yakir flourish.

It was warm today, as it usually was in the South, and the cloudless sky was illuminated with a blazing, Southern sun. The elvish youth pulled at the hunting shirt that clung to her sweaty body. Growing up in the most Northern city in the country, Selena had always been practically immune to the cold. Heat, she had discovered, was a different story. The moist air of Yerushalmi beat down unforgivingly on her, and had it not been for the magical anti-sweat soap she had brought from home, Selena was sure her pit sweat would've soaked right through her shirt. The thought terrified her. It was one of the first times she had ever used the soup. Selena had accepted that she had to clean up her act if she was going to be with Jonathan romantically. One can only imagine the panic that drove her legs back to her room earlier that morning when she had forgotten to wash her mouth out in her haste to see him. Thinking of the Prince brought a smile to the young elf's face. She had never considered how rewarding it could be to be with someone, but last night had enlightened her. However, anxiety also began to form in the pits of her stomach. Not so much at messing things up with Jonathan, but more about the progression of their relationship. One moment they had been flirting, albeit quite blatantly, and the next they were rolling around on the floor of the sparring yard, each grabbing and fondling and trying to stick his or her tongue down the other's throat. Now, Selena wasn't very experienced with courtship, but she did get the feeling that things had gone a little fast. She had stayed up all night trying to decide whether to slow things down or not.

When she reached the cleverly named Western Gate Selena paused, realizing that she did not actually know how to exit. Jonathan was waiting for her at the Royal Stables outside the city, but a person needed a permit to exit through the gate alone.

"Lady Selena! Lady Selena, over here!" Selena looked toward the sound of the call. The guard in charge of overseeing passage in and out of the city was waving her over.

"Uh, hello." She told the middle aged man as she approached.

"Good morning! Prince Jonathan told me you would be coming, and ordered me to let you outside the city. At first I was worried that I wouldn't be able to distinguish you from the rest of the crowd, but it seems the Prince was correct in his description of your unmatched beauty, my lady." A slight blush came over the young woman's cheeks as she listened. It flattered Selena to learn how her Prince spoke of her.

"Uh, I'm not a lady." She responded awkwardly. The guard's eyes widened.

"Of course, of course, I've forgotten my courtesies. My deepest apologies, your grace." He bowed low.

"You grace?" How exactly did Jonathan described our relationship to this random gate guard? She panicked.

"Of course, your grace. The Princess of the elves deserves no less." Selena's panic lessened, and started becoming replaced with irritation.

"Ah ok, well I'm not too anal about those sort of things."

The guard looked confused. "So then… how should I address you… uh…" he was baffled, "y-your grace?"

"People usually call other people by their name." Selena replied as she pushed past the man to the road. "But seeing as we're never going to interact again, it doesn't really matter." She left the man dazed and confused, which amused her greatly.

The gate opened to Crowstown, one of the poverty-stricken townships that were dotted outside the walls of the city. They were where the worst thieves, vagabonds, and murderers of Yerushalmi lived and the most dangerous sections of the city. But the "Princess" wasn't afraid. She had her loaded pistol and steel dagger strapped to her right thigh and waist. And she was an elf. The only people capable of mugging an elf were members of other enhanced races, of which Yerushalmi had very little.

Selena walked along the periphery of the town, just as Jonathan had told her to, but was still able to smell the mixture of rotten wood, piss, and shit that created the atmosphere of Crowstown. She covered her nose and joined up with the main road after clearing the rancid township.

The Royal Stables were so grand that they were closer to an actual horse farm. All the important people of Yakir boarded their horses here, where they were fed, cleaned, and eloquently looked after by the land's finest grooms. Jonathan had instructed Selena to meet him in the main barn, which she assumed was the massive red building that could be seen from half a mile a away. After entering through the fence gate, Selena managed to make it halfway across the field to the barn before she noticed Jonathan off to her left side, brushing a magnificent chestnut stallion. As she approached, the Prince greeted her. "Good morning." Selena could tell he was smiling as he said it, even though his back was to her.

"Uh, morning…" She responded timidly. You passionately kissed him three times last night, just do it! Selena thought to herself. But her fear of being judged, a fear she had never experienced until she had met Jonathan, held her in place like a bear trap.

"You know I couldn't sleep last night? I was too excited, kept thinking about you." He said. Before he could continue, Selena swallowed her fear, grabbed his hand to turn his side toward her, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a brief kiss on his left cheek. When she retreated she saw that Jonathan was surprised. "That… was adorable." He chuckled with a smile. Then he pulled her body against his, put his right hand on the small of her back, and brought his face close to hers. "You're adorable." Then they kissed. It was short, with no tongue. Their lips touched for a second or two and then broke apart. It was not the passionate kind of kiss they had shared the night before; it was the sweet, caring kind. Somehow, in that moment, Selena preferred it.

"I am not adorable." She teased, pointing a finger at his nose. "I am a fierce, half-elven half-human warrior, as ferocious as lioness."

"Oh trust me, I know." Jonathan replied, breaking apart from her fully to continue grooming his horse. "You showed me that more than once last night." A smile grew on Selena's face as memories of the previous night rushed into her mind.

"Last night was pretty fun." She added a hint of wickedness to her voice in an attempt to sound sexy.

"Yeah, it was. We should do it again some time." Selena laughed, clearly and crisply. It was the first time in a couple of months. "Whoa," Jonathan turned to her, surprise again on his face. "Just realized that was the first time I've heard you really laugh. Very pretty." He finished with a smile.

Selena smiled back and walked up next to him. "This is a beautiful horse." She commented, stroking the stallion's side. "What's his name?"

"Roach."

Selena's face contorted. "Roach? What a gross name."

"Yeah, I know." The Prince responded, rubbing Roach's head. "It's a Scornhold family tradition that the horse of the King be named Roach. Goes all the way back to the very first Scornhold, Gerald the Trivial. Ever heard of him?" Selena shook her head. "Gerald was a mere blacksmith. From a little Northern village that eventually became Nahan. Yakir hadn't been established as a country yet, so every group of people elected someone to lead them. This village elected Gerald, who was strong and caring. When the war with the Red Wolf broke out, the Council urged all the men of the land to answer their call to arms. Gerald was no fighter, but he was determined to protect his family. So he took a simple iron hammer from his forge, rallied the seventy-three able bodied men of his village and joined the fray."

"What Gerald lacked in skill, he made up for in ferocity and cunning. He rose through the ranks of the Council's forces quickly and eventually became the right hand of Lady Praigma herself. The people took to calling him 'Stronghammer.'" Jonathan turned and smiled at Selena.

"My uncle was named after an Alagaesian legend." She said with a raised eyebrow.

"And who do you think your 'Alagaesian legend' was named after? Anyway, Gerald was with Praigma when the vampires stormed Ran's last keep, called 'the Scornhold.'" Selena inclined her head when she heard that to show that she had learned something new. "When the battle was won, the Council decided it was high time to establish a proper country and parliament. Once that was in order, all that remained was to name a king. Well, Gerald 'Stronghammer's' courage and ability to lead was known throughout the land by that point. When the command came down to elect not only a King, but a bloodline to rule, the people's decision was basically unanimous. And so Lady Praigma crowned him 'Gerald Scornhold the First' at the steps of the then-new Royal Palace. That day, Gerald road through the streets of Yerushalmi atop the horse he had owned since he was seventeen: Roach."

"Very cool story. Just one question." Selena crossed her arms sassily.

"And what would that be?" Said the Prince, who had finished brushing Roach's hair and had moved on to securing his saddle.

"Why is he called "Gerald the Trivial," and not "Stronghammer," like the people of the time knew him."

"To remind the Royal bloodline of their humble roots." The Prince turned to Selena and offered her his hand, which she took in hers with a smile. The two began walking toward the main barn, slightly swinging their joined hands in the middle. "When my father uh… left us, Roach passed into my possession. Which means that today you will be riding my old horse, Paul."

"Paul?" Selena was confused.

"Yes, Paul."

"What kind of a horse's name is 'Paul?" She laughed.

"The ironic kind, which made my eleven year old self laugh when I named him."

"Sounds like you were a special eleven year old." Selena teased.

"Well, there's gotta be something special there if you chose me." He replied cheekily.

The girl felt her face flair up with blush. "Shut up! Gods, you've made me blush more times in the last sixteen hours than the whole rest of the world's managed to my entire life." She playfully slapped his arm.

"Just like I said," Jonathan said as he opened the door to the barn. "Adorable." Selena and her boy walked over to the black-coated Paul.

"How's it going, Paul?" Selena took a carrot from the nearby bucket and offered it to the stallion. However, Paul reared back and neighed in fright. "Hey now buddy, I'm not gonna hurt you." Selena told Paul in the Ancient Language. Paul looked at her for a moment with understanding, then slowly inched his way forward before gently beginning to nibble on the carrot. "Atta boy." She pet Paul's head as he took the rest of the carrot from her hand.

"Whoa. That was cool." Jonathan said with fascination. "That was the Ancient Language."

"Yeah. Know much about it?" Selena turned to him.

He shrugged his shoulders in response. "Only that it's Aryal's spoken language, your native language, and the way that a wizard controls magic."

Selena smiled warmly at him. "Very good. Most Yakirians know next to nothing about the Ancient Language. Though you are the Prince, so I guess you should know a bit more than the average peasant."

"Why'd it calm Paul down when you spoke to him?" Selena could hear the excitement and curiosity rising in his voice, which made her giddy with happiness.

"Well, magic is… the fabric of the universe. It's energy in its purest form. That means that, for all intents and purposes, The Ancient Language is magic. Therefore, it's impossible to lie while speaking it."

"Because it makes up everything in the universe. And since the Ancient Language is magic, and magic makes up everything, the Ancient Language is always correct." Jonathan galnced at her excitedly, to which she responded with an encouraging nod. "So since fire is, as is everything else, basely made of magic, and therefore the Ancient Language, it can't be anything else in the Ancient Language. Because it isn't anything else in reality. It's fire. And reality is magic. Just as magic is the Ancient Language. Which means… reality is the Ancient Language. To lie in the Ancient Language would be to change reality itself. Which, of course, is impossible."

Selena gawked at the Prince. She was genuinely impressed at how quickly he had grasped the concept. "Clever, clever boy." She fed Paul another carrot. "Every being, from man to mouse to tree, inherently knows that things uttered in the Ancient Language are absolute and never wrong. So, all I had to tell Paul was that I wasn't going to hurt him and he believed me. Because there was no possible way that what I said was wrong. Because if it was wrong-"

"You'd be changing reality itself." The Prince finished.

"Wow… you're not completely stupid." She teased. "Who'da thunk?"

"One of my many admirable qualities." That made Selena giggle. "Come," he continued. "Let's get you some gear."

!

Being located in the valley of a mountain in the coldest part of the country meant the landscape surrounding Aryal consisted of one thing: water, in some shape or form. There were a few interesting valleys and other such mountainess sights to see, but it took a while to get to them without a dragon. Because of this, Selena wasn't really used to going on little day trips outside of the city. But Yerushalmi was on the edge of the Caetz Forest, near the shore, so there were many more spots a person could ride out to for the day. Of course, it was never a good idea to venture too far into the Caetz without proper protection, and no one ever roamed off road, but travelling a little ways in was safe enough. Which is why Selena had had to ask Jonathan if he was kidding when he told her of their destination.

"An hour long ride along the Narr, are you joking?" She had exclaimed.

"Not at all." He had responded nonchalantly. "Why do you sound so scared?"

"Scared? Jonathan, I'm terrified. You can't go that deep into the Caetz, there are monsters and Buroks and werewolves! We'll die!"

"Selena, we are surrounded by wolf hunters right now. They can defend us from a small dragon, if need be." Jonathan gestured to the five hunters that were escorting them.

"And an average sized pack of Grove wolves can take down a large dragon." When the Prince waved her complaints away, she continued. "Jonathan, I really am not comfortable with this. I mean, how many times have you done it?"

He looked at Roach for a moment before responding. "My mother would take me out to the springs everyday in the summer. Till I was twelve." Jonathan looked back up at Selena. She saw the pain in his eyes and sighed with defeat. If they went everyday…

"Fine, I trust you. You're right, anyway. I forgot that werewolves don't hunt with the entire pack."

"Four or five at most, nothing Amos can't handle."

Selena turned to the pale hunter. "Ain't never met met a wolf I couldn't down, m'lady." Amos said in his Eirish accent. He tipped his black, wide-brimmed hat toward her. Selena didn't doubt the skills of his group, who the common folk called "the Spoons." Amos was one of the oldest wolf hunters alive, right up there with Shango Montelli and Sylvia Sterkenmayer. For the past four hundred years, every member of the Kingsguard had been part of the Spoons. Only the position of Lord Commander was given to an outsider, because Amos was "too simple a man" for such titles and responsibilities. Despite that, he was acting captain with Selena's uncle Murtagh on temporary suspension.

They had been riding for about an hour by the time the Narr came into view. It was the longest river in Yakir and the second widest, beaten only by the Bas-Yag. It ran almost perfectly vertical through the Caetz, from the Silver Pond to the beaches of the ocean in the South. As they rode along its length, Selena became more and more at ease. The trail was small and far away from the main road, but very used. It had been beaten down over the years by the apparently large amount of people that travelled it. Selena had grown up hearing horror stories about the Caetz forest, and specifically the werewolves the dwelt within it, but according to Jonathan, people of the South weren't afraid at all. "Werewolves are the only real threat and they barely come this far South in large numbers. Tree branches kill more people a year than random wolf attacks." He explained.

"In the South, maybe." Selena responded.

"Well that ain't fair, m'lady." Amos jumped in. "Your Northern wolves are coldern' ours, more vicious. Game's harder to come by up there, so they're much more desperate. It's pathetic, really."

"Just one wolf, Amos." The young elf said. "And trust me, Silverback is anything but 'pathetic.'"

"Almost sounds like you admire the bastard." Said Erie, the female hunter to Selena's left. She was the only one that Selena disliked.

"Admire… no. Respect? Absolutely."

"Respect?" Erie did not try to hide the disgust in her voice.

"Mhm. I'd think a hunter of all people would know to respect a werewolf, especially a silver like Silverback."

"I don't respect wolves, my lady. I kill them. That fukcer's killed hundreds, how can you have anything but hate for him?"

"Language." Amos said, almost as if by instinct.

"You're right, he has killed hundreds. But that's been over decades." Selena said. It irked her that Erie was still going on.

"So?" The hunter retorted. The way she spat out the word my Selena cringe.

"So, my father and his thousand dragons obviously have him contained. Silverback is a silver wolf, leading a pack of exclusively silver wolves. That's a phenomenon. If we didn't have the Corps in the North, he would've destroyed it long ago."

To her annoyance, Erie scoffed. "Please, little girl, everyone knows the Silver Wolf Theory is bullshit."

"Language." Said Amos.

"And why is that?" Selena asked innocently.

"You know why."

"Let's pretend for a moment I don't." The young elf hid amusement as Erie became more flustered.

"I've been a lieutenant in his majesty's wolf hunters for the past sixty years, girl. Tenth division. Don't patronize me."

"Indulge her, Erie." Jonathan said. Selena looked at him and saw he was smiling. He's enjoying this little argument. She realized.

"Your grace, with all do respect-"

"A Zayad talking back to her King?" Jonathan asked with feigned astonishment. "Please do remember that Selena here is my Lady, and should be treated with just as much respect as me." He winked at Selena as he finished. The Prince's defending her, while not needed, was very flattering.

"As you command, your grace." Erie obeyed through gritted teeth. "You want to know why silver wolves don't exist, my lady? Because there is a set scale. Black to white. Weakest to strongest. The Silver Wolf Theory states that some wolves, over time, become so powerful that their coats can no longer get any whiter and so turn silver. Of course, the only evidence to support the theory are two shaky accounts that have both been disproven by a multitude of historians."

"My father has seen Silverback with his own two eyes, and so has my brother. Are you calling the two most powerful dragon riders in the country liars?"

"I'm sure they think they saw a silver coat, my lady. But wolves are much faster than riders. What they saw was moonlight reflecting off of a grey wolf's fur." Anger flared inside of the young woman as Erie blatantly insulted her family. It was obvious that she had crossed a line, as Selena heard both Jonathan and Amos inhale to reprimand the hunter, but she beat them to it.

"And I suppose you would be able to tell, Erie? Even though my father knows more about werewolves than you do?"

"Hunters learn everything there is to learn about werewolves. In the past five hundred years alone we have more than tripled our total knowledge-"

"And why do you think your information has grown so quickly in such a short time, Erie?" The two women locked eyes.

"Your father was not responsible for all the research-"

"No, just ninety percent of it." Selena knew she had won when Erie stared back at her wordlessly, unable to do anything but ride and grind her teeth.

"I believe what my eyes tell me." She finally said. "And I've never seen a wolf out of the spectrum."

"Then I guess Ran the Red Wolf is a myth, then." Tension filled the air. Selena knew Amos and many of the Spoons had fought in the war against the Red Pack. They had most likely lost many friends. Looking around at their faces, she was upset to see that they no longer seemed kind and inviting, but rather looked ahead with hard stares. The only person who seemed to be in a good mood was Jonathan, who gave her a thumbs up when their eyes met.

"The Red Wolf Ran," Erie began, "was the father of all werewolves. His was a coat of red, because he was the first."

"And the most powerful." Selena added. "By a huge margin, if the books are right. Red isn't on the power spectrum, and neither was Ran." Erie had nothing to say to that. Selena regretted making the other wolf hunters uncomfortable, but it was worth it to shut Erie up.

By the time the group had arrived at their destination, the tension had lifted. Erie was the only one who stayed silent. Selena had been telling Jonathan about the Goat Men of the Melek Mountains when Amos announced their arrival. She looked and saw two short pillars made of flat stones that had been piled up on top of one another. In between them a path led up a hill.

"My mother and I built those pillars." The Prince explained. "The first time every summer we came, we would add a rock to each. The right one's mine." Selena noted that the right one was taller than its counterpart. "We walk the rest of the way." Jonathan said, jumping down from his horse. Selena followed suit and gladly accepted his arm when he offered.

"And they say chivalry is dead." She chirped.

"Stand guard. Don't disturb us unless absolutely necessary." Jonathan commanded.

"Of course, your grace." Amos bowed in his saddle and made a gesture to the Spoons, who began moving into their respective positions. The sternness with which Jonathan had uttered the command was very different to his usual easy going demeanor. It was attractive.

As they passed through the two pillars, Selena counted the amount of stones the left one had. Thirteen. Strange. One more than I expected.

"Are you familiar with the code of chivalry?" Jonathan asked.

"Nope. It's not practiced in Aryal."

"Lucky you. It's stupid and extremely dated, and I hate that it still applies in Yakir. My father tried to get rid of it, but apparently forcing an entire country to change is hard." Selena giggled at his sarcasm. "Well, I've studied all twelve volumes."

"Oh yeah?" Selena said, staring at his perfect face.

"Mhm. Wanna know how many lines are devoted to women?"

"How many?"

"Three. Women are a frail and weak sex. A chivalrous man is thereby honor-bound to protect and defend them, at any cost. They're also not allowed to read, because I said so. I'm paraphrasing of course, but you get my meaning."

"It actually says women aren't allowed to learn how to read?" Selena was dumbfounded.

The Prince nodded his head. "Mhm. Expressly forbids it, in fact. It's two out of the three lines."

"And people still follow it?" Selena looked away from him to absorb the nature around them. It was mostly trees and bark, but you could see the occasional squirrel or bird if you tried.

"Well, it's not law anymore. That ended a long time ago. But still, some people cling to tradition like it's their first born son."

"It's all some people have." Selena didn't really finish her sentence. They had walked into a large clearing, where in the middle were dozens of hot springs steaming with heat. She let go of Jonathan's arm and stared in amazement. "This is beautiful." She said. "But… I didn't know springs could exist in the middle of the forest."

"Nobody did." Jonathan said as he began walking toward the springs. "This is the only place of it's kind. Mother always used to say magic heated the springs."

"What, you don't know?" Selena began to follow him.

"Never checked. This is a special place, I didn't want wizards and other people sniffing around."

"Wait." Selena stopped in her tracks. "How many other people have seen this place?"

Jonathan turned to her with a smile. "Besides me and my mother? Only you." He turned back around and started whistling as he walked toward the springs.

This is his special place. He doesn't bring anyone here. Selena began to feel overwhelmed. This is going too fast, she thought, why would he bring me here so soon? Suddenly, Selena's eyes widened with a theory. He wouldn't… But the more she thought about it the more sense it made.

Selena found Jonathan sitting down with his bare feet in one of the springs. "Take your shoes off and join me, it's nice." He smiled up at her. However, it quickly went away when he saw her face. "Is everything ok, Selena?' The Prince stood up and took her hands.

"Why'd you bring me here, Jonathan?" Selena asked, looking at the ground. He didn't speak for a moment.

"I… what do you mean?" Look how innocent he is! You're confusing the poor boy! She screamed internally. Buy still, she had to make sure.

"Selena this… this is my special place. I wanted to share it with you… because… well, you're… special." He looked away for a moment. "Ok, that sounded… stupid and… kind of creepy. Listen, if sharing this place with you is too much I apologize. I can see if you think it's too fast, but I wanted to show you, you know? To share this place with you."

"You only wanted me to see this place?" Selena looked up into his eyes. "Nothing else?" Jonathan was confused.  
"What else would I-" And just like that the realization hit him. Like a wall. For the first time, Selena saw his face turn bright red and he backed away from her quickly. "Gods above, Selena I am so sorry! I… I… I didn't even realize…. Didn't even think! Oh my gods, you must think I'm such an asshole…. I didn't even." He stuttered and stumbled over his words, losing all the confidence and charisma he had. His reaction proved to Selena that his intentions were innocent, and so she simply sighed with relief and found his hands again.

"Shh shhh shhhhh." She quited him. "It's my fault. I read the situation wrong." She cupped his face with her hand. "I thought that you brought me here to go swimming. To see me naked."

The Prince's eyes widened with fear. "No, no! Definitely not! I've never been in the springs myself! I would just come and sit with my feet in the water with her, like I was doing just now! I would never-"

"Shhhh. Hush, my Prince." Selena put her finger against his lips. "Like I said, my fault." She stood on her tiptoes and put her lips against his. Selena heard Jonathan sigh with relief and slowly wrap his arms around her body. But when Selena's tongue entered his mouth he pulled away.

"What's wrong?" She asked with surprise. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"M-maybe this wasn't such a good place to bring you…" The Prince backed away from her.

"Why, what's the-" Oh no.

"Oh…" She said quietly.

"Fuck…" The Prince spun halfway around in frustration. "Gods, I'm sorry Selena I fucked it up. Today was supposed to be nice, and I didn't think or even realize how weird it would be…"

"Oh, no no it's fine. It's my fault. I… I shouldn't have kissed you. This… this was your special place with your mom… I… we shouldn't, uh… ruin that." They stood there in awkward silence for a moment, neither looking at the other.

Finally, their eyes met. "Let's just… sit. With our feet in the water. Like you used to. No funny business, just… relax." Selena suggested.

Jonathan smiled at her. "Maybe a little snuggling?" A held his forefinger and thumb close to each other. And just like that, things were fine again. Selena removed her boots and socks, rolled her pants up to her knees, and sat down next to him. They began to talk about the Goat Men again, and soon enough Selena put her head on his shoulder. And there the two sat, the awkward moment all but forgotten, talking as easily to one another as ever.

"So what percent goat would you say they are?" Jonathan asked.

"I'd say the Ezen are… eighty percent goat." Selena responded.

"Yeah, that's usually what I think the ratio is with most Beastmen. Are they super hairy?"

"Oh yeah, goat hair covers their entire body. And the older ones even have it growing out of their ears-" A loud crack rang through the clearing. Both Selena and Jonathan's heads immediately shot toward the sound. Perhaps fifteen yards to their right, an eight-and-a-half foot tall, white werewolf stalked out of the trees.

Fear paralyzed the couple. They sat there, staring into the wolf's red eyes as it walked toward them, growling with it's teeth bared. Then about ten yards off it stopped. More and more wolves began entering the clearing then, each one mimicking the first in speed and mannerisms. The majority of them were very dark shades and smaller than the first by almost a foot, but Selena spotted a few dark greys and even a light grey among them. Slowly but surely, they kept coming, until thirty fully grown, hungry werewolves surrounded them on all sides.

Selena slowly reached for the wolfsbane pistol at her side, but before she could reach it she heard Jonathan inhale and scream, "Amos!"

And then the pack lunged.


End file.
